


.｡❅*⋆⍋* Warm Nights at Frosty Heights *⍋⋆*❅｡.

by BouncyPickle



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 80's Music, Abusive Neil Hargrove, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bad Flirting, Banter, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Boys In Love, But also, Child Neglect, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Competition, Eventual Romance, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay 80's Ski Resort Love Story, Gay Billy Hargrove, Hockey, Holidays, Homophobes Getting What They Have Coming, Homophobic Language, Ice Skating, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Oral Sex, POV Billy Hargrove, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Sex, Skiing, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve's Parents Are Nice But Still Bad Parents, Surfing, Swearing, They Are Each Other's First Gay Partners, Underage Drinking, Winter Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28122054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BouncyPickle/pseuds/BouncyPickle
Summary: "You have plans this weekend?"And Billy knows he must be going crazy. Because it sounds like Steve Harrington just invited him to hang out. Which is not possible because Steve hates him and even though Billy apologized for punching his face in last month they haven't become chummy or anything. Until this very moment, Billy kind of assumed Steve wanted nothing to do with him."No, why?" Billy presses bitterly, "You tryna ask me out on a date, Harrington?"Steve snorts, "Just. Trust me. I am going to change your mind about winter and that’s a promise."
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 47
Kudos: 201





	1. Chapter 1

Billy fucking hates winter.

He didn’t, when he lived in California. Now, in Hawkins, Billy can’t stand it. The days are so short you can blink and miss them. It’s fucking _cold_. It’s December, winter break, and there’s _snow_. There has been a blanket of white on the ground since late November. He huffs an irritated breath, a plume of white in front of his face, and tucks his hands deeper into his armpits. 

Billy’s only wearing a t-shirt and denim jacket, jeans, his boots. Which are not “winter boots” that apparently everyone needs in this god forsaken weather. None of it is anywhere near warm enough for this shit. But it’s all he had time to grab. Neil had been in a _mood_. Billy had his keys taken before he'd gotten tossed out. His dad had told him to _cool off_ even though Neil was the one fuming. 

He’d only pushed Billy around some, landed a couple punches to his ribs, nothing Billy can’t handle. But Billy is still blinking away tears like some kind of _pansy_. And he’s shivering. His jaw is chattering. They’d only just sat down for dinner so it’s a little before seven but it’s already dark and only getting darker. Of course Neil made sure to toss Billy out before he got to eat any. Not that Billy's that sad about missing out on Susan's cooking. 

Now Billy is walking because standing still makes him too cold but he has nowhere to go. He wonders if he wanders back home after a couple hours if his dad will even let him in. It’s cold but probably not enough for him to die in that short amount of time. Although Billy isn’t even sure he cares if it is.

Lights flash over him as a car pulls up from behind. Billy stops, tense. He's afraid it's his dad, at first. If Neil had to come out looking for him, Billy is going to get it. A window is cranked down before Billy finally looks. It's not his dad.

"Hargrove?" Steve asks through his Beemer's passenger window. He's listening to _Wham!_ , "What the hell are you doing out here?"

Billy sneers, “Just taking in the _lovely_ weather.”

Steve frowns, “It’s, like, thirty degrees out. And snowing,” his eyes widen a little, “Where is your _coat_ , man?”

Billy narrows his eyes. Steve sounds like he’s actually worried or something. A shiver wracks Billy’s body but he clenches his jaw to stave it off, refusing to let Steve hear his teeth chatter. Steve scrambles across the center console to shove the passenger door open.

“Jesus, just get in,” he snaps, “You’re going to freeze to death out there and I cannot have that on my conscience.”

Every part of Billy screams at him to tell Steve to fuck off. His knee jerk reaction to handouts is to sneer and spit and shake them off. But. Well. Billy can feel the heat pouring out of Steve’s BMW and he’s so _cold_. Like he’s afraid his fingers are going to fall off at this point. He lets out an annoyed huff, only it’s a plume of white and comes out all shuddery from his shivers. Fuck it.

Billy drops into the passenger seat without giving himself a chance to chicken out and slams the door behind himself harder than necessary. Steve takes a minute to crank up the heat and turn the music down. He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, gestures wildly with his other hand while he talks.

“I know you have this badass persona to uphold but you do realize how stupid this is right?” Steve is _nagging_ him, Billy realizes, “You can’t just walk around in this kind of weather without, like, _proper_ winter attire, dude. I’m being serious. That’s how you catch hypothermia and-and get _frostbite_ \--”

“Fuck this,” Billy snaps, going for the door handle. If he wants to get chewed out, he can go home. Neil will end the discussion with his fists but Billy almost prefers that to...whatever _this_ is.

Steve snatches him by his jacket and pulls Billy back into the seat, “Dude, have you even been _listening_ to me? Christ, why are you so goddamn stubborn?”

“Let me go, Harrington,” Billy growls, “I don’t need to sit here and endure your nagging. I _know_ , okay? I’m not a fucking idiot.”

Steve blinks. His lips part with a surprised breath and Billy can’t help himself. His eyes drop down to look. Steve’s lips are a little chapped from the dry weather but they’re so pink. They look soft, just like they always do. And just like always, Billy wishes he could feel them against his own. The ache in his chest makes Billy sick.

“You _know_?” Steve asks, flabbergasted. He still hasn’t let Billy go but his grip is relaxed now. Billy could move away if he wanted to, “Then what are you doing out here?”

Billy drops back into the seat with a sigh. Folds his arms across his chest. He looks out the window instead of at Steve’s stupid, beautiful face. The snow is falling harder now than it was when Billy had been thrown out of his own damn house. The big, fluffy snowflakes look so innocent drifting down from the night sky like Billy isn’t still damp and shivering from where they’d landed on his denim clothing and soaked in. 

“Got kicked out. Told to walk it off,” he finally offers up.

Steve frowns, like he’s suspicious, “Without your coat?”

“ _Yeah_ , Harrington. Without my fucking coat.”

When Billy turns to glare at the other boy, he’s surprised by the look on Steve’s face. His warm brown eyes are dark, his jaw clenched. If Billy didn’t know any better he’d think Steve looks pissed off.

“That’s bullshit,” Steve says and his voice matches his face, all angry and shit.

Billy feels mad in retaliation. He goes for the door handle again, seething, “Fine, whatever. Fuck you too.”

Steve catches him once more, by the elbow this time. “Wait! I don’t think what you’re _saying_ is bullshit,” Steve tugs Billy back and Billy lets him, “It’s bullshit that your parents tossed you out without a coat in weather like this. Don’t they know how dangerous that is?”

“ _Parent_ ,” he corrects, “And he doesn’t give a fuck.”

Steve grips his arm tighter for a second. His eyes search across Billy’s face. Billy wonders just what in the hell he’s _looking_ for.

"You eat dinner yet?"

Billy’s caught off guard by the question. Eventually, he grits out, "No."

Then Steve nods, like he’s found something Billy didn’t know he’d given away, and turns back to the steering wheel.

“Alright,” he says, simple, “You can come have dinner at my place if you promise not to hit on my mom.”

Billy can’t help himself. He laughs. Steve grins but it looks like a grimace too. Billy watches as Steve shifts the car into gear and pulls them back onto the road.

“Is she hot?”

“My _mom_?” Steve squawks, “ _No_. She’s my _mother_ , dumbass! Of course she’s not _hot_. Who _asks_ that?”

Billy chuckles at Steve’s distress, “Just wondering where you got your good looks, pretty boy.”

Steve scowls, “I won them from a cereal box. Now stop talking about my mom before I change my mind and leave you to freeze to death.”

After they've been driving long enough for Steve to flip his cassette, Billy speaks up, apropos nothing.

"I hate winter," he says, looking out the window at all the god awful snow.

"Really?" Steve sounds _offended_ or something, "But winter's so awesome!"

Billy just levels him with a flat look, " _How_ exactly? It's cold and dark all the time. There's fucking _snow_ everywhere."

Steve just scoffs, waving his hand around again like he isn't even aware he's doing it.

"Yeah, okay, the short days suck I'll give you that," he says, "But the cold isn't bad if you, you know, dress appropriately! And snow is awesome, man."

Billy turns to Steve, kind of curious and kind of appalled.

"Snow," he repeats, "There's nothing _awesome_ about snow."

Steve bleats, "Yes, there is! How can you say that?"

"Am I missing something?" Billy huffs, "'Cause from what I've seen so far, all of _this_ \--” he gestures outside to the winter weather, “is overrated."

"Holy crap," Steve says like he just realized something, looking away from the road to stare at Billy, "Is this the first time you've seen snow?"

Billy laughs sharply, "Harrington. There's been snow since _November_."

"No, I mean--" Steve stammers, still a little wide-eyed, "Is this your first winter with snow?"

"Yeah,” Billy shrugs, “No white Christmases in south Cali."

Steve’s face lights up with what Billy can only describe as glee.

"Okay, that's it," Steve says.

Billy furrows his brow at him, "What?"

"You have plans this weekend?"

And Billy knows he must be going crazy. Because it sounds like Steve Harrington just invited him to hang out. Which is not possible because Steve hates him and even though Billy apologized for punching his face in last month they haven't become chummy or anything. Until this very moment, Billy kind of assumed Steve wanted nothing to do with him.

"No, why?" Billy presses bitterly, "You tryna ask me out on a date, Harrington?"

Steve snorts, "Just. Trust me. I am going to change your mind about winter and that’s a promise."

Billy just raises his eyebrows. He honestly doesn't know what to say. Before he gets a chance to speak, they're parked outside of Steve's house and Steve is climbing out of his car, gesturing for Billy to follow. 

Steve's house, well _mansion_ , is not really what Billy had been expecting. It's nice, modern, and clean. Really clean. The kind of clean that makes Billy feel dirty. Trashy. When Steve plucks his sneakers off in the entryway, Billy follows his lead and toes his boots off. While Steve is removing his winter coat, he looks back at Billy and Billy doesn't have time to hide the shiver that runs through him. His clothes are damp and Billy can't seem to get warm, even in Steve's house.

"Shit, you're all wet," Steve turns to him and for a second Billy thinks Steve is going to reach for him, rub his arms like he's trying to warm him up or something, but he doesn't.

" _No_ ," Billy mocks, "What gave you that idea?"

Steve rolls his eyes but he's smiling, "God, you're such a dick," he snatches a hoodie off the hooks on the wall sporting various jackets and outerwears and holds it out to Billy, "Here. Wear this so you don't get, like, hypothermia and die during dinner."

Billy stares at the offered sweater so long Steve shakes it at him impatiently. Billy shucks off his jean jacket, tosses it on the little bench by the front door, and snatches up Steve's hoodie. He pulls it on quickly. The fabric is soft. It smells like Steve's cologne. The sleeves are tight around his biceps but long enough they hang down to his fingers. Steve makes a choked off noise that has Billy's head snapping up. Steve is fighting off a laugh.

"Wow, Hargrove, lookin' sharp," Steve snickers.

Billy flips the hood up and scowls, "S'not my fault you have terrible taste."

Steve just shrugs, "We can't all pull off the sexy bad boy look."

Billy stalls. He stares at Steve for a moment, a little speechless. Steve didn't just--he didn't just call Billy--Suddenly Steve moves farther into the house, motioning for Billy to follow.

"Hey mom, I brought a friend over for dinner!" Steve calls out.

"Oh?" responds a woman's voice, "Who is it? Nancy?"

Steve heaves a sigh like he's _exhausted_ by that question. Billy follows him into a kitchen. It's all clean, white counters and expensive, stainless steel appliances. It smells like food and the oven is on. A woman is standing next to the kitchen island, pouring herself a glass of wine. She's _gorgeous_ , objectively speaking. Looking at Mrs. Harrington makes Billy _wish_ he was attracted to women. 

She has dark hair pulled up casually into a bun. A turtle neck with a blue sweater over top, and dark leggings that absolutely leave nothing to the imagination. Her features are gentle in a way Steve’s aren't, all sloping angles and narrow lines, but the resemblance is still uncanny. Her eyes are honey brown and moles are speckled across her light skin. When she glances up and spots him her lips part in a smile that damn near knocks Billy off his feet. That smile is all Steve.

"So not Nancy," she chuckles.

"Uh, yeah. This is Billy," Steve answers, "My...friend. From basketball."

Billy scowls at him. Why does Steve sound so _weird_? His mom arches a neat eyebrow at Steve. She's smirking, a little, and Steve inherited that look too.

"Well, it's always nice to meet Stevie's... _friends_ ," she holds a hand out and Billy shakes it politely, "I'm Elaine, please none of that _Mrs. Harrington_ nonsense."

Billy sends the woman his most dazzling grin and kisses her knuckles, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Elaine."

Steve elbows him and Elaine laughs, "Oh, he's a _charmer_."

"Is that Steven?" a man's voice calls out from deeper in the house, "Steven, come in here and help me with this dang tree!"

Steve rolls his eyes, grabs Billy by his arm, and drags him into the other room. It's a living room. The furthest wall is all windows that reveal a backyard with a pool. There's a large tv in front of a dip in the floor where sofas and a coffee table sit. Bookshelves and a fireplace line the other wall. The ceiling is high with glinting, modern chandeliers. Billy _really_ doesn't belong in a house like this. A man is standing on a ladder in front of a massive pine tree, trying, and failing, to straighten it out.

"Come on, son," the man barks with no bite, "Hold her steady so I can get her nice and straight."

It takes all three of them. Together they manage to get the tree straight and Elaine guides them until the tree is at the perfect angle or whatever. Finally they screw it into the base and step back. Yep. It's a tree. Billy sees Elaine smile like she's pleased and Steve seems happy too. Billy doesn't really get it. He folds his arms and doesn't watch Steve's dad clap him on his shoulder and thank him for his help. Steve's dad has a beard of black hair, closely shaven, and horn-rimmed glasses. He's wearing a green button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and slacks. He looks like he was athletic once but didn't bother keeping up with it. Then the man's extending a hand toward Billy.

"Didn't catch your name, son."

Billy bristles but tries not to. He takes the hand, shakes it, "William Hargrove, sir."

"William," he repeats, "A good, strong name. I like it."

Steve snorts, "He goes by _Billy_."

Billy flushes a little, embarrassed, and glares at Steve. His dad drops his hand to clap Billy on his shoulder while he chuckles. Billy doesn't flinch but he tenses, can't help it. No one notices.

"Nice to meet you, Billy," Mr. Harrington drops his hand, "You may call me Gene if you'd like, since we're going by nicknames."

"Oh. Uh, right," Billy tries a smile but it's a little forced, "It's nice to meet you too, Gene."

"Great!" Steve claps his hands to break the moment, "Now that that's out of the way, can we _please_ eat dinner already? I'm starving."

"Yes, yes," Elaine tuts and steers them back toward the kitchen, "It should be done soon," she motions to a dining room, "Why don't you and Billy set the table, Stevie?"

Steve misses the gleam in his mother's eye but Billy doesn't. He frowns. She winks at him. Billy spins on his heel and hurries after Steve. He's not going to hit on Steve's mom. Partly because he doesn't want to fuck up whatever ceasefire him and Steve have right now. And partly because he has the sneaking suspicion that's _not_ why Elaine was winking. Why did Steve have to introduce him to his parents so _weirdly_? They set the table together with only a little playful ribbing.

Once they all sit down for dinner, Steve gets Billy a glass of water along with his own but doesn't look at Billy when he sets it down. He's having an animated conversation with his mother about some tv show Billy knows nothing about. He catches Gene's eye from across the table. The man arches his brows and Billy just shrugs. The lasagna is delicious and apparently vegetarian. Billy loves meat as much as anyone else but this is good too.

"Oh and I invited Billy to come with me this weekend," Steve saying his name gets Billy's attention.

Gene's eyes widen, "You did?"

"Well, yeah," Steve sounds a little...pouty or something, "You told me I could bring a plus one."

"Oh, well, I meant perhaps your girlfriend might--" Gene starts but Elaine interrupts.

" _Gene_ , please," she huffs. When she smiles at Billy, Billy feels like he's missing something, "You boys will have a _blast_. Have you ever been up north, Billy?"

Billy snorts, "This isn't north enough?"

"Billy's from _San Diego_ ," Steve says it like it's lame. As if Steve isn't from some hick town like Hawkins. Billy didn't even know Steve _knew_ that.

"Oh, how lovely," Elaine gleams, "I know the Great Lakes aren't comparable to the ocean by any means but they'll surprise you, I'm sure."

"Have you ever been skiing?" Gene asks while Billy's still digesting all of this information.

"Uh," he says, with no eloquence, "No. Can't say I have."

Elaine tuts, "Now, Stevie. I know how you can get. But you let Billy adjust before you hit the slopes. It's dangerous for beginners."

"I know, I know," Steve rolls his eyes, "He'll be stuck on the bunny hills until I'm sure he isn't going to break his neck."

"Oh, how exciting," Elaine smiles at Billy again, "Do you have any gear?"

"No, I was going to get stuff when we get up there," Steve says for him so Billy doesn't have to wonder what she means.

"Remember to use the gold card, son," Gene says, "And don't leave him with anything too shabby now."

"I won't, we'll be fine," Steve huffs.

Elaine sends him a _look_ , "I'm sure I don't have to tell you boys to _behave_ while you're up there. I don't want to get any calls from the police again, Stevie."

"That was one time!" Steve groans.

By the time dinner is done, Billy is starting to get nervous that he's been gone too long. Neil won't _worry_ about him but he'll get pissed at him if he makes Susan worry. Steve seems to catch Billy glancing at the clock for the hundredth time and excuses them. His parents tell him it was great to meet him. Billy puts on the charm a little and responds similarly. When Steve steers him out the door, Billy hugs his still damp jacket against himself, hoping to fight off the night's chill. Steve doesn't make him wait to get in his BMW to drive him home. Immediately, Billy cranks the heat up.

"So," Billy starts once Steve decides on some pop song to listen to, "What the hell was that?"

Steve winces, "Yeah, sorry. My parents can be a lot."

"That is _not_ what I'm talking about," Billy huffs.

"Oh. You said you wanted to come with me this weekend," Steve glances at him with this-this _hurt_ look on his face. Billy doesn't want to think about why the sadness in Steve's warm, brown gaze makes him feel like a piece of shit.

" _No_. I said I was _free_ this weekend," Billy immediately regrets the harshness in his tone and quickly adds, softer, "Not that I don't want to, like, hang out or whatever. Just--" Billy sighs, trying to deflate some of his building irritation, "What in the hell did I get myself into?"

Steve just laughs at him, "You'll see."


	2. Chapter 2

Billy can’t believe his luck. Neil and Susan, and their precious little Maxine, are going to Indianapolis for the weekend. They aren't coming back until _Tuesday_. Which means Billy can go do...whatever with Steve without Neil ever finding out. He waits until they're gone, waits an hour more, before he starts packing any of his shit. Billy doesn't know what Steve's plan is or where they're going but it's apparently farther north than here. So he grabs all his warmest shit, some boxers, his deodorant and cologne and toothbrush, and stuffs it into one of Max's backpacks. Then Billy waits for Steve to come pick him up.

He's standing by the front door finishing off a cigarette when Steve's familiar BMW pulls up on the curb. Billy flicks the smoldering butt onto his driveway before trotting over to the other boy. Part of Billy still has no idea why he agreed to any of this. Then Steve grins at him from inside his car and Billy's heart thumps in his chest and he remembers. This is so unbelievably stupid. _Billy_ is so unbelievably stupid. If Neil ever finds out, Billy's _dead_. Still, he tosses his bag into Steve's backseat.

"Hey, so the drive is kiiiiinda long," Steve admits before Billy gets in.

Billy pauses. Spinning on his heel, Billy heads back to his driveway. He grabs his cassettes from the Camaro. There's no way he's taking a road trip listening to _Wham!_.

"If you think I'm going to blast Iron Maiden like you do then you are very wrong," Steve rolls his eyes but lets Billy change the tapes anyway, "Some of us don't want to be deaf when we're thirty."

"Jesus, fine, _mom_ ," Billy snorts, "I'll keep it at a respectable volume so as not to offend your _delicate_ sensibilities."

"My sensibilities are _not_ delicate," Steve snips back, "Just my eardrums."

Billy chuckles, despite himself. When he flips the volume up, Billy makes sure not to turn it up too loud. He plays Iron Maiden too, just because Steve brought them up. Steve rolls his eyes in return but Billy doesn't miss his fingers tapping against the leather of the steering wheel. Billy had barely slept last night, tossing and turning. Neil had warned him about getting into trouble, and slapped the shit out of him to really drive his point home, so Billy couldn't settle. Now, he shucks his denim coat off and shoves it against the window.

"Wake me when we get there," he says and rests into his jacket like a pillow.

Steve scoffs, "Really? You can sleep listening to this crap?"

"Hell yeah," Billy folds his arms around his chest, "Shit's like a goddamn lullaby."

Steve snickers, "Fine, whatever. Go to sleep, Hargrove. But I'm waking you up when I need directions."

Billy snorts. He doesn't tell Steve that he can't read a map to save his life. They're more likely to get lost with him as a navigator than without a navigator at all. Whatever. The window is cold by his face while the heater is blowing warm air on his chest. Billy kind of wishes they _would_ get lost. Maybe then he'd never see Bumfuck, Indiana again. Maybe he'd never see Neil and his perfect little family again. Billy watches the snowflakes drift by the window and lets himself fall asleep.

When someone touches his shoulder, Billy jerks awake. Billy jumps to attention and reaches out, catching the offending hand by the wrist. Blinking, it takes Billy a second to realize that it's Steve sitting next to him. It's Steve's hand he's holding in a death grip.

"Sorry man, didn't mean to startle you," Steve says easily and Billy drops him like a hot potato, "I just stopped to get gas. Take a pee break. Maybe get some snacks."

Billy groans, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "How much longer ‘til we get there?"

Steve shrugs, "Couple of hours, probably."

"Then why did you wake me up?" Billy grunts, already shifting around to get his jacket on.

"Uh, to pee and get snacks," Steve says, "Keep up, Hargrove."

Billy does pee and get snacks. He lets Steve pay for them too. Steve doesn't even complain about it. Billy feels like he must be asleep still. This whole situation is so damn weird. Once they're back in the BMW, Billy tears into his bag of M&M's while Steve gets settled in the driver's seat. Billy changes Steve's cassette to the new Twisted Sister album.

"So where the hell are we?"

Steve shrugs, "Michigan."

"Wow, that's awful specific," Billy rolls his eyes, clacking hard candy against his teeth.

Steve chuckles a little, "I don't know, man. It all looks the same around here."

Billy still feels off kilter as him and Steve settle into easy conversation. They talk about basketball and school. Steve is just trying to get a C in Chemistry and Billy thinks the team's chances at State this season are good if Steve can learn to plant his damn feet. Billy didn't know he had anything in common with Steve. But they talk about new movies and music easily. Billy chats about California and surfing and Steve tells him about going to California once with his mom and how he got _insanely_ sunburned. Billy laughs and it doesn't even sound malicious or anything. Steve whacks his shoulder-- _i_ _t's NOT funny asshole_ \--but he's laughing too.

Billy has felt really alone since coming to Hawkins. Back in Cali, he had friends. Real friends, not like Tommy and Carol. In Hawkins, Billy hasn’t wanted friends. He's been nothing but a whirlwind of rage since he got here. He had something to prove, to himself and to Neil. But the only thing Billy has proved is that he can't just will his gay away. He's been trying SO hard to be the alpha male his dad wants but it doesn't matter. His dad catches him kissing a boy once and it's all he can see in Billy anymore. It doesn't matter if Billy fucks every girl and her mom, he’s still going to be a disgusting--

"Hey, can you check the map real quick?" Steve interrupts Billy's train of thought.

Billy cracks the window and gets himself a cigarette. While he's lighting it, Billy rifles through the glove box. He finds an Indiana map and underneath it a Michigan one. Billy will never admit that he's shit at this. So instead he puffs away at his cigarette and opens the map. He gives directions with confidence he doesn't feel. Steve doesn't correct him or question him. They only get a little lost and Billy blames it on Steve. Steve just chuckles sheepishly, admitting he always gets lost because he's terrible with directions. If that's true then they must be incredibly lucky because only a few wrong turns later, they finally reach their destination. Billy almost makes a break for it. He could probably steal Steve's car and turn around right now.

 _Frosty Heights Ski Resort and Lodge_.

"Oh hell no," Billy snaps, "I am not going to some rich fucking _ski lodge_ full of yuppie assholes."

Steve just snickers and pulls up the drive anyway, "Oh come on. It's not _that_ bad. Be happy it's not a _country club_ and that we're not here to go _golfing_."

Billy pales, "Do you do that?"

"Unfortunately," Steve sounds sincere when he says that too, "You don't _know_ yuppies 'til you're watching them play tennis and eat lobster bisque at the country club." He shudders.

Billy guesses it’s too late to turn back now. He lets out the biggest sigh he can muster and flops back into the seat in defeat. As he folds his arms, Billy doesn’t miss that Steve is smirking like he’s won something. If Billy turns to look out the window so Steve can’t see the smile on his face, well that’s his business. The pine trees look good out there anyway, all green under a plume of white. He may hate snow but up here it’s kind of pretty or whatever.

Frosty Heights is pretty much exactly what Billy had been expecting. The lodge is massive, all white siding with dark wood trim and paneling topped with a bright red roof. Some real tudor bullshit. Steve pulls them up to the valet instead of finding a parking spot like a normal human being. Whatever. Billy’s not going to complain about not having to walk in the cold.

There’s more snow here. A lot more. He thought the few inches they had in Indiana was a lot. Even though the sidewalks and roads are all cleared, the snow is _feet_ deep. Billy’s pretty sure there’s at least two. And it’s _cold_. He is shivering in his denim jacket the moment he gets out of the car. This place is _miserable_.

“I told you we were going north and you didn’t think to bring anything warmer than _that_?” Steve snorts, shrugging his duffle over his shoulder and passing Billy his backpack.

Billy scowls, “Yeah, well, not all of us have daddy’s gold card to buy whatever we want.”

Steve’s big brown eyes go all soft on him. Billy doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to Steve looking at him like _that_. “Oh,” he sounds put out then he smiles and it’s the only warm thing in this frozen hellscape, “Here, you can use this.”

Billy doesn’t get a chance to ask or protest before Steve is wrapping his own scarf around Billy’s neck. Steve isn’t that much taller than him. But when he steps all close so he can slip the thick fabric over Billy’s head, Steve feels taller. Billy’s whole brain just kind of...short circuits. He blinks the snowflakes off his eyelashes as Steve secures the scarf around Billy’s throat. It’s warm and it smells like Steve’s expensive cologne.

“There you go,” Steve yanks on the two ends of the scarf hanging down Billy’s chest so the fabric goes nice and snug, “It’s not much but I can’t have you freezing to death yet. We just got here!”

Billy tries to act like his gay little heart wasn’t just sent all a flutter. So he snorts dismissively and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah ‘cause that’d be too easy,” Billy turns toward the lobby entrance, “If you wanted to make me suffer as, like, revenge or something there are so many easier ways to do it than _this_ , Harrington.”

Steve gets his other suitcase quickly and follows him, groaning, “Oh my god, don’t be such a dramatic bitch. This weekend can be fun if you let it, man.”

Billy arches an unimpressed brow in the other man’s direction, “I really don’t see how.”

“Then let me _show_ you, asshole,” Steve bumps their shoulders playfully.

Billy won’t admit it to anyone, ever, but when Steve looks at him, smiling like Billy isn’t a piece of absolute trash, Billy knows he’ll do whatever the hell Steve wants. He’s secretly a complete sucker for pretty boys like that. So Billy just shrugs and gestures for Steve to lead the way inside.

Billy has never seen so many leg warmers in his life. The lodge is bustling with people, mostly young adults like him and Steve, mostly preppy. Girls in leggings and leg warmers. Boys in snow pants and turtlenecks. All in a gag-worthy variety of colors. Billy stands out like a sore thumb in his tight jeans, loose button down he didn't barely button _at all,_ and thin, denim jacket. He's still drawing eyes and he's pretty sure it isn't because he's not in snow pants. A couple of girls are eyeing him from across the room and he winks at them for good measure. When they giggle at Billy, Steve rolls his eyes and drags Billy away to the check-in desk.

Another thing Steve had apparently forgotten to mention was that they were staying in the presidential suite. Billy scoffs as Steve checks them in and gets their room keys. Once they're on their way to the far end of the building, Billy can't help but prod. There's a nasty feeling in his chest that burns like jealousy. So instead Billy lets himself be angry.

"Of course _King Steve_ would stay in the fanciest suite," Billy snarks.

Steve just sighs, "Yeah, my mom booked this trip. A "sorry we forgot every birthday and Christmas for the last ten years and we can't make it to graduation" present. I didn't ask for any of this shit. I wasn't even gonna go until you agreed to come."

Something twists in Billy. A little like pity. A little like understanding too. He can't remember the last time anyone acknowledged his own birthday. Or got him anything for Christmas. Probably when his mom was still around.

"Yeah?" he tongues at the corner of his mouth, thinking. Steve looks back at him expectantly and Billy grins, "You got daddy's gold card, right? Let's make 'em really make up for it then."

Steve smirks, "I like the way you think, Hargrove."

The room is so nice Billy regrets ever bitching at Steve. There's a fireplace. Billy tosses his bag on the couch in front of it to look around. There's a balcony and it opens up to an outdoor porch right in the woods. Snow covered trees provide them with privacy and quiet. Billy does a double take. Yep, there's a fucking _hot tub_ out there.

"Holy shit, Harrington," Billy cackles on his way back inside, "We got our own _jacuzzi_."

"Nice," Steve says from somewhere deeper in the room.

Billy follows his voice. There's a bedroom off the living room and when Billy turns into it, he freezes on the spot. Steve is in there, casually putting his clothes away in the dresser. The room is as rustic and nice as the rest of the suite. Only. Billy gulps. He leans back to check again. There's only one bedroom. And in that bedroom there's only _one_ bed. A king sized bed stacked with fluffy blankets and pillows.

Billy folds his arms and leans against the open doorway, "Damn. Didn't think you'd be sleeping on the couch during your vacation."

Steve sends him a confused look, "Why would I do that? The bed's big enough for both of us."

"You…?" Billy gapes, "You want to _share the bed_?"

"Uh, yes?" Steve furrows his brows like _Billy_ is the one being crazy, "There's plenty of room. I mean, it's huge. It'll be fine."

This is one of those times where Billy is forced to remember that he's the one who's weird and broken and messed up. Because boys sharing a bed _isn't_ a big deal when both boys are normal. When neither boy even fathoms anything sexual from the other. Billy tries to shake off the nervous, prickling anger burning just under his skin. It feels too much like shame. So he shrugs like he doesn't care at all.

"Whatever," he moves into the other room to get his stuff, "You better not try and cuddle me, Harrington!" he yells back over his shoulder, "I _will_ kick your ass out onto the floor."

Steve just laughs, "You say that now. But I have been told I'm an excellent cuddler. Come tomorrow you may be singing a different tune."

Billy glares at the other boy as he comes back into the bedroom. Lets a little of his real anger burn through his eyes. Steve lifts his hands in defeat.

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, “No cuddling. Got it.”

Billy throws himself onto the bed. Stretching out, Billy arches his back and lets out a pleased groan as all of his tense muscles relax. When he folds his hands behind his head, Billy realizes Steve is watching him. He bristles defensively.

"What?" he snaps.

Steve just smiles, "You're not too tired, are you? I've got plans for us tonight."

As he says this, Steve kicks open his suitcase. Billy's eyes widen. It makes sense now why all of Steve's clothes were in his duffle bag. Because his suitcase is full of freaking _booze_. A toothy grin cuts across Billy's face. He licks at his bottom lip as his eyes flick up to meet Steve's.

"I'm never too tired to party," Billy growls.

Steve smirks back, "Atta boy."

He picks out a bottle of _champagne_. Then to Billy's great disappointment, Steve carries it into the other room. Billy gets up just to watch Steve put it in the fridge.

"Dinner first," Steve tells him then narrows his eyes at him for a second, "Do you have anything warmer than that? Like a hoodie or a flannel?"

Billy tries really, _really_ hard not to get pissed. " _No_ , asshole," he hisses, "We went over this. I didn't need a damn _parka_ in San Diego."

Steve, at least, looks sheepish and a little guilty. "I wasn't trying to be an ass," he offers, "Just. I have a sweater you can borrow if you want. You know. So you don't get cold."

Billy wants to spit in Steve's stupid, generous, beautiful face. Instead, he inhales a steady breath through his nose. Counts to ten. He's been trying this thing where instead of letting himself get angry over stupid shit he takes a calming breath, counts to ten, and then gets angry anyway.

" _Fine_ ," he snaps, "Give me the damn shirt. I'll wear it if it'll shut you up."

Steve's sweater isn't something Billy would be caught dead in on on a normal day. It's big on him, which means it definitely has to be big on Steve. It hangs down Billy's palms and the collar shifts side to side over Billy's clavicle. Thankfully it isn't in some garish color though. The sweater is grey and it's soft and clearly expensive. Billy would never wear something like it by his own will but he has to admit that it's comfortable. And he definitely pulls it off. Then again, Billy is pretty sure he can pull off anything. It's warmer too, especially when Billy puts his denim jacket on over top.

When Billy straightens out his coat, he looks over at Steve and is surprised the other boy isn't ready yet. Steve is caught in the middle of getting dressed, still shirtless with just his arms stuck in the sweater he's got only halfway on. He's just kind of...staring. At Billy. Billy scowls at him.

"Say anything about your stupid sweater and you're dead, Harrington," he snaps.

Steve is immediately back in motion, scrambling into his clothes. "Yeah. I was just--" he pulls his shirt down, "It, uh, it looks good. On you. My sweater. Or, I mean--"

Billy snorts, "Jesus, man. Don't give yourself an aneurysm trying to compliment me. I know I look good."

"Right, of course," Steve rolls his eyes but he's smiling. Billy almost thinks Steve's face looks red, like he's blushing or something. But it's evening and the setting sun is washing everything in a rosy light so it's probably just in his head.

Billy isn't sure what he expected when Steve said he was taking him to dinner. Maybe eating at the shitty restaurant in the hotel. Or maybe getting burgers at a diner, cheap and quick. What he hadn't anticipated is the fancy ass restaurant Steve drives them to. When they enter, Steve tells the hostess they have a _reservation_. And judging by the bustling dining room floor it's a good thing they do. They hostess side-eyes Billy but her gaze is more questioning than flirtatious. When he catches her looking between him and Steve, Billy goes tense. Oh. Shit. She doesn't think--

"Hey," Steve lays a hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry about it. I'm making my parents pay, remember?"

Billy shakes his hand off, "Yeah. It's cool."

He shucks his coat off and hangs it on the back of his chair before sitting down. Across from him, Steve does the same. The hostess gives them some menus, only one list of expensive "small plates" and entrées on a little plaque, and a wine list. Steve smiles at her before she leaves them to it. When Steve looks back at Billy, he's still smiling. Billy doesn't really know what to do with that.

"I'm serious," Steve tells him, "Get whatever you want."

Well. As much as Billy hates hand-outs, he _loves_ the idea of splurging on the Harringtons' dime.

"So how come Mr. and Mrs. Harrington have missed all your birthdays and shit?" Billy asks, secretly delighting in being uncouth in such a high end atmosphere, "Don't really seem like the type."

Steve sighs from deep in his chest, "They work. A lot."

Billy frowns. He feels kind of shitty for bringing it up now. Billy's dad works a lot. But he still comes home for dinner every night. He hasn't missed Susan's or Max's birthdays. And he's the biggest asshole Billy knows.

"Well fuck 'em then," Billy looks at the menu, "I'm getting the most expensive shit they have. If they're going to buy your forgiveness, at least make it pricy."

Steve chuckles, shakes his head, but doesn't disagree. When the waiter comes, both Billy and Steve get some drinks. Billy orders an appetizer, scallops with bacon for a price Billy would usually scoff at. He loves scallops. Even though he doesn't get to eat them hardly ever because they're so expensive. Steve insists he doesn't want an appetizer, then eats half of Billy’s anyway. Billy slaps Steve's hand every time he goes for another but Steve is more persistent than Billy is angry about it. Eventually, Billy just gives in and shares the plate with the other boy.

He orders the tenderloin, rare, and grins when Steve blanches at it.

"What's the matter, pretty boy? Not a fan of meat?" he teases.

Steve meets his eyes, almost too seriously. He grins. Then Steve's eyes flick down. Billy would think he's looking at the table only. Billy _knows_ when someone's checking him out. And Steve's being real obvious about it. Billy feels heat creep up the back of his neck, feels his ears go warm. Steve drags his gaze back up, slow as hell.

"Oh, trust me," Steve says when he meets Billy’s eyes again, "I _love_ meat."

Whatever Billy had been about to say sticks in his throat when their waiter suddenly interrupts them. He's apologizing to Steve profusely about how they've run out of asparagus for his side dish. Steve's demeanor changes so fast Billy feels like he's got whiplash. Steve turns all easy smiles and polite, understanding tones again. He agrees to roast carrots or something instead, completely unbothered. Billy takes a big drink of water and tries to forget whatever weird, off kilter, _hopeful_ feeling that was just swelling in his chest. It almost felt like Steve had been _flirting_ or something. Which is crazy.

"Have you ever gone skating before?" Steve asks out of nowhere.

"What?" Billy blinks, completely dumbfounded for a second. "Uh, yeah, sure. A couple times," he shrugs, "Mostly it's chicks who go roller skating but I went with some girls before. Took Max out a few times."

"I meant ice skating but now I'm picturing you roller skating," Steve laughs, "Did you wear cut off shorts and a crop top? No, wait. Don't answer that. It'll ruin the picture of you in my head."

Billy sputters indignantly, "What's wrong with that? They show off my body, man. It drives women," and _men_ he doesn't say, "wild!"

Steve's eyes widen, "No. You _actually_ wore short shorts and a crop top? Weren't you scared of getting, like, road rash? There's so many places to get skinned up!"

Billy cackles. He _did_ crash and burn, actually. The scrapes on his knee and elbow hurt like a bitch and they took forever to heal. Max still hasn't stopped laughing about it. He doesn't know why he tells Steve the story but seeing Steve laugh so hard his eyes water feels worth the blow to his pride.

The food is so good. Billy makes an _unholy_ sound after the first bite. Steve watches Billy lick his lips after swallowing.

"I'm not sharing, pretty boy."

Steve grunts, "Seriously? Not even one bite, man?"

Billy just smirks, "Not a _chance_."

Billy refuses to skip dessert. It's his favorite part of any meal. They each get something different off the menu and agree to split them, so they can try both. Billy orders a slice of decadent chocolate cake with peppermint cream. And Steve gets a cheesecake with raspberry topping. They're both good but Billy likes the cheesecake more. Steve agrees to switch without any fuss so Billy thinks maybe he likes the chocolate cake better anyways. Billy doesn't even get to glance at the bill before Steve pays. Billy's almost sure Steve didn't look at it either.

"I need a smoke after all that," Billy sighs, content.

Steve nods in agreement, "Me too. Let's get out of here," he checks his watch quickly, "Shit, we're going to be late."

Billy follows Steve's lead, standing and pulling his coat on again. "Late for what?" he asks as they leave the restaurant.

Steve fishes out two cigarettes, fancy Camel menthols Billy secretly kind of likes, and passes him one. He lights his own then turns and lights Billy's too. There's a gleam in Steve's deep, bronze eyes that has something like excitement lighting up in Billy's chest.

Steve smiles at Billy, "Come on and find out."


	3. Chapter 3

The building Steve drives them to is dark. It looks like a community center or something, big and flat and cheaply maintained. And _dark_. Billy frowns through the Beemer's window.

"Guess we were too late after all," he offers.

Steve parks and shuts the car off anyway, "Nah, we made it right on time. Come on."

Billy hesitates, watching Steve get out of the vehicle. The building is definitely closed. He isn't sure what they're doing here but, well, he's followed Steve this far. Only waiting a moment, Billy gets out too, jogging to catch up to the other boy.

"Hey, uh," Billy starts awkwardly as they pass under an ominously flickering street light, "I'm sorry for, you know, all the shit I did to piss you off. In case you're planning on, like, murdering me."

Steve gives him a _look_ like he's a scolding mother or something. Guy's been babysitting too much to have perfected that particular bitchy mom face.

"Jesus, Hargrove," Steve huffs, "Your mind is really dark, you know that? Why's it always _revenge_ and _murder_ with you?"

Billy just shrugs, "I'm a fatalistic sort of guy, I guess."

"Well stop," Steve admonishes, "This is _fun_. I'm trying to do something _fun_ for you, you ass."

"Got a real weird idea of what's fun, man," Billy bites back snippily, "Freezing my balls off in some creepy building in the middle of the night isn't really my idea of a good time."

Steve rolls his eyes, "God, just shut up already," Steve doesn't sound angry, if anything he sounds _fond_. He knocks on the locked side door, "I promise this will be fun if you stop being such a bitch about it."

Billy shoulder checks Steve with maybe more force than he means. When Steve stumbles to the side, Billy snaps, "I'm not a bitch, _you're_ a bitch."

Steve just chuckles, looking at Billy like he's _won_. Folding his arms, Billy huffs out a plume of misty breath and looks away.

The door opens a second later. A man in a janitorial uniform answers hesitantly. When he sees Steve, his eyes light up in delight.

"Steven!" he clamors to open the door for them, "You're late. Come in, come in. You still have about an hour before I gotta break out the zamboni."

"The _what_?" Billy asks at the same time Steve speaks.

"Thanks, Duncan! You're the best," he steers Billy inside with a hand on his back and Billy goes, "That should be plenty of time."

Steve takes them down the hall away from the older man who doesn't seem concerned at all. At Billy’s raised, questioning brows, Steve answers.

"I used to come up here a lot as a kid," he tells Billy, "My mom loves skiing so she'd drag me up here any weekend she could all winter. I wanted to play hockey instead," he chuckles softly, "Duncan used to catch me practicing after the rink closed. He'd let me stay until he had to close up. Told me I could go pro if I kept trying but between you and me that was a load of _crap_ ," he laughs again. 

Billy's distracted from the story by the soft, sweet look in Steve's eyes. Billy is a little smitten and a little jealous. The only time Billy ever feels like that is when he thinks of California. And now all of those good memories feel tainted by his departure. When he thinks about the beaches where he used to surf and the pier where he took Max skating, Billy can't help but remember his dad's harsh words and even harsher fists. He'd caught him with another boy, luckily only kissing or Billy would probably be dead, but Billy had _paid_ for it. Life on the west coast almost feels like a dream now. Billy wonders sometimes if all the good shit and fun times aren't just made up in his head.

"All the extra gear should be in here," Steve is saying as he stops in front of a supply room. He turns to Billy, eyeing him up and down, "What size are you?"

Billy glances down at himself, "Dunno. Medium. Large, sometimes, I guess."

"Shoe size," Steve clarifies as he leads them to a wall of ice skates, "I meant your shoe size."

Billy lets Steve pick him out some skates. Then Steve grabs some for himself. He shoves both pairs at Billy.

"Hold these," he demands.

"Ugh," Billy lifts the skates out away from himself, "Gross. They smell like wet egg salad."

Steve laughs as he gathers up some more gear. He gets two hockey sticks and a bag of rubber pucks. They leave through a locker room and end up in the rink. Rows of bleachers sit behind glass walls. The air is chilly but somehow more bearable than the cold outside. And Billy feels a little awed when he sees the ice. It's bright white under the low lights, flat and smooth. Glistening a little. Steve drops all of their stuff at the last bleachers before the gate that opens to the ice.

"Let's put our skates on here," Steve plops down, quickly pulling his boots off.

Billy follows his lead. He sits next to the other boy, passing him his skates when Steve makes a grabbing motion at him. Billy watches Steve as he shucks his own boots off. Steve slips his skates on with practiced ease. Then he laces them up intricately, securing the skates on like a pro. Billy pulls his own on and makes to lace them up like a pair of Chucks.

"Wait, wait, wait," Steve says quickly, "You need to--" he cuts himself off, "Here let me do it." Then Steve kneels down in front of him.

Billy sucks in a tight breath, tensing all the way down his spine. Steve doesn't seem to notice as he scoops up Billy's foot. He taps the skate down until Billy's heel settles into it more comfortably. Then he starts working the laces up with deft, practiced fingers. Billy is holding his breath. He can't help it. He's pictured a million scenarios with Steve on his knees and all of them are flashing through his head completely unwelcomed. Billy feels warmth blossoming across his cheeks and ears and hopes Steve doesn't look up to see how fucking _flustered_ he is. Jesus, he's not some innocent little lamb. So Billy doesn't get why something as simple as Steve lacing up his skates for him is affecting him so much.

"There! One down, one to go," Steve smiles up at him.

Billy’s heart skips a beat.

Then Steve is looking back down, fixing Billy's other skate into position and working on the laces quickly. Billy is kind of surprised by how comfortable they are. Steve has left the part over his foot and at the top of the skates a little loose but the curve around Billy’s ankle is nice and tight. He feels like maybe he won't fall on his face the moment he stands up. 

Here's hoping.

Steve gets back up on surprisingly steady feet but Billy doesn't miss that he's got a hand on the glass wall behind him to keep his balance. Steve offers out a hand to help Billy up and Billy scowls at him. He _wants_ to shake the other boy off but he isn't sure he can actually stand without the help. So, bitterly, Billy takes Steve's hand and lets the other boy pull him to his feet. Steve doesn't let his hand go, instead he tugs Billy toward the ice.

"I'll give you a minute to get used to skating before we break out the pucks," Steve tells him, "I'm going to school you but I want it to at least feel like a challenge."

Billy throws his head back and laughs, "Oh, pretty boy, I'm going to make you eat your words."

Billy is a fast learner. It helps that the process of ice skating, while new, isn't completely foreign. He understands how to keep his balance and he doesn't struggle to stay upright. Stopping on the other hand is where he does find himself at a loss. Billy barrels into the glass walls, the waist high walls of the penalty boxes, _Steve._ Every time, Steve laughs at him but it's not mean or critical. He sounds like he's having fun. Billy is too, he realizes, when he feels himself smiling. Steve catches him by his arms and holds Billy steady. He's skating backwards while Billy moves forward. The showoff.

"Okay, okay," Steve isn't even bothering to hide his amusement. When he talks, his breath is a plume of white. They're so close the mist mingles with Billy’s own cloudy breath, "Let me show you how to stop, alright? You're gonna break something if you keep crashing like that."

Billy gestures at the ice rink widely as if to say _go on then_.

Steve moves back, gliding across the ice almost elegantly. It's surprising. Billy thinks of Steve playing basketball and his inability to plant his feet. The other boy is _clumsy._ He doesn't look it, here. Steve seems to be in his element. With it comes an easy confidence Billy wishes Steve would wear more often. Looking at Steve like this, Billy glimpses that _King Steve_ everyone is always talking about.

"Alright, so," Steve starts, lifting his arms, "You gotta just--" and then he bends his knees, turns his skates to the side, and stops.

Billy slams into him before he can mimic Steve's movements. Quickly, Billy catches himself on Steve’s coat. Steve teeters a little dangerously but quickly rights himself. His hands fall to Billy's waist to hold him steady. It's almost like they're hugging. Billy tries to shove himself back up but nearly falls again.

"Right, that was my fault," Steve uses his hold on Billy’s hips to steer him back to his feet, "Let's try again. Remember: lift your arms, bend your knees, turn your hips. It's way easier than it sounds."

It is not, in fact, _way easier than it sounds_. Billy stumbles, slips, falls more than once. Steve catches him more often than he doesn't. A couple times Billy falls flat on his ass. There's going to be a wicked bruise on his tailbone, probably. When he finally, _finally_ , stops, skates turned to the side and kicking up a spattering of snow, he whoops in triumph. Steve matches his enthusiasm with a victorious hoot of his own. He claps Billy on his shoulder. Billy is smiling so hard his face hurts.

They're standing close now, both stopped on the ice. Steve's eyes track over Billy's face. Breath caught in his throat, Billy jumps when he feels cold fingers on his cheek. A thumb brushes over the rosy swell of Billy’s cheekbone, flushed from the cool air. But not _only_ the cool air.

"You have freckles," Steve says softly.

Billy blinks, stunned.

Then Steve is gliding away, back toward their belongings. As he goes, he's talking about hockey sticks and the proper way to hold them but Billy isn't listening. His fingers come up to his face. The warmth of his cheeks feel hot against his cool fingertips. He touches the place Steve's fingers had just been like he can feel these freckles for himself. He can't.

Steve shoves a hockey stick into Billy's chest, grinning.

"You ready to get served?"

Billy pokes his tongue out between his teeth, smirking, "Oh, I'm ready. Ready to show you how it's done."

Steve is good at hockey. But Billy _is_ a fast learner. He loses himself to the clacks of the sticks against the ice. The chase of following the puck across the slick surface. Trying to steal the puck from Steve, making his way to the goal, is similar to how they play basketball. Only on the ice, Steve is clearly the better player. Billy makes up for it with sheer determination. He still loses but it's a close game. Really close. Steve is staring at him with something like awe in his eyes as Duncan finally shows up and ushers them off the ice.

"Are you sure you've never played before?" Steve asks as they're stripping off their skates.

"Nah," Billy works his boots back on, "I'm just _that_ good."

"Jeez, I guess so," Steve agrees. Then bumps his shoulder into Billy’s playfully.

Billy isn't used to this casual camaraderie between them. But he wants it all the same.

The drive back to the lodge feels long in the dark. Billy doesn't complain about the Christmas music playing on the radio. His mom liked Elvis and Blue Christmas was her favorite. When he stares out the window all he can see are swirls of snowflakes and nothing past that. Watching has him feeling tired but he refuses to doze off. Next to him, Steve is humming along to the music and it makes Billy smile, even if he hides it so Steve doesn't notice. Billy knows all the words, wants to sing along. Instead he listens to Steve hum and tap his fingers on the steering wheel, content. For the first time in as long as Billy can remember, he feels _good_. He doesn't dare speak, move, do anything at all. Billy doesn't want to ruin the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

The second they're back in their suite, Billy tosses his jacket on the end table and flops back onto the couch. It's leather, or faux leather, brown and a little worn, cracking but in a way that seems intentional and stylish. It's surprisingly comfortable. With thick cushions and long enough Billy can stretch out on it. He does, moaning as his joints pop. Billy is sore as hell but not really in a bad way. His muscles are tired from use and he's a little achy from falling on the ice. But it isn't unbearable. Steve comes over, two glasses in his hands, and he kicks at Billy's legs. Billy sits up so Steve can sit down.

"Whatcha got there?" Billy asks.

Steve passes him a glass without hesitation, "Whiskey. Uh, bourbon, I think? I took it from my dad's study so it's probably expensive."

Billy waggles his eyebrows, "Now we're talkin'."

Billy drinks Jim Beam. So he's not, like, an expert on whiskey. But this is some good shit. He doesn't need to be a rich prick to know that. The whiskey goes down _dangerously_ smooth. It's a little sweet, a little smoky. Deep and rich. Billy licks the taste from his lips, savoring it. Steve is watching him with his melted chocolate eyes as he sips from his own glass. It's unnerving. Billy knows this isn't the first time he's caught Steve watching him. He wonders just what in the hell is going on in Steve's beautiful head when he looks at Billy like _that_.

"What?" Billy asks. He means for his voice to come out harsh, snappish. It doesn't. He just sounds as curious as he feels.

"Nothing," Steve looks away, takes another drink, "Wanna listen to some music?"

Billy shrugs, "As long as it's not _Wham!_."

Steve talks as he stands, "What have you got against Wham!, man? They aren't that bad."

Billy snorts, takes another gulp of whiskey, "Stop. I'm losing respect for you."

"Wait," Steve fakes a dramatic gasp, whirls to look at Billy, "You have respect for me?"

Billy rolls his eyes, "Obviously. I'm not subjecting myself to your company because I hate you."

Steve flicks on the radio and Careless Whisper blares out. He grimaces while Billy laughs at him. Steve doesn’t change the song, the little asshole. He does turn it down, though.

"Well. I don't hate you either," Steve offers up, "You're actually kinda...cool. When you're not being a complete dick."

That's probably the shittiest compliment Billy's ever gotten. It still makes his chest all warm and fluttery. Or maybe that's just the whiskey. Billy swallows another gulp of bourbon to wash down the swell of emotions creeping up his throat.

"You too," he finally replies.

Steve smiles at him. Billy kind of wishes Steve would never _stop_ smiling at him.

"Want a refill?" Steve asks and only then does Billy realize his glass is empty.

"Hell yeah," he grins with all his teeth, "Bring the bottle."

Steve does, plopping back down next to Billy and immediately pouring him another glass. Then Steve downs his drink before filling it back up. The music is setting a weird mood. The song is all smooth beats and sax solos and impassioned vocals. It's the kind of music Billy thinks Steve would play to woo some girl from school. It sounds like the shit his peers dance to at Homecoming while forgetting to leave room for Jesus. It kind of makes Billy horny, anyway. Which is just _embarrassing_. He fucks to Mötley Crüe, exclusively. Nikki Sixx fucking _does it_ for Billy, what can he say?

"God, I hate this song," Steve giggles from nowhere, "Guilty feet. What the fuck does that even mean?"

Billy snorts, "I don't know, Harrington. I think it's a real hit."

"Now you're just saying that to be contrary!" Steve slaps Billy's shoulder, "I _know_ you hate it. If _I_ hate it there's no way you like it."

"Okay, you got me," Billy gulps his drink down. The song ends and a Madonna song starts up.

They shoot the shit for a while, drink a good portion of that high quality whiskey, before Steve stands. He says something about going to the bathroom and ambles away. Billy watches Steve not exactly _stumble_ but definitely not walk in a straight line to the other side of the suite. He finishes off his however many glasses of bourbon and feels it go straight to his head. Billy isn't _drunk_ , not yet, but he is definitely not sober. A pleasant buzz is warm under his skin and he feels like he's floating. The room is warm and cozy. Outside, through the window, Billy sees that it's still snowing.

"Hargrove!" Steve shouts behind him and Billy jumps a foot in the air. He spins in a panic only to see Steve grinning like a maniac, "The _hot tub_!"

Without any further explanation, Steve whips his shirt off. Billy is left reeling. Then Steve is undoing his pants and shoving them down. One leg gets caught on his ankle and Steve hops to shake it off. When he does, Steve sees that Billy is still sitting on the couch.

"Come _on_ , dude!" he motions for Billy to get up but Billy's a little busy looking at Steve in just his underwear, "What? Are you _shy_? I've seen you naked, like, a million times," Steve is saying _as he pulls his boxers off_ , "I'm turning on the bubbles!"

Then Steve is throwing open the doors to the porch and running outside with a laugh. Billy _scrambles_ off the couch to follow. He's never stripped so fast in his life. Steve's borrowed sweater lands in a heap and Billy's jeans immediately follow. He doesn't let himself hesitate with his underwear.

It's fucking _freezing_ outside. Every snowflake that lands and melts against his skin makes Billy shiver. Steve is already sinking into the hot, bubbling water. Billy just catches a glimpse of his ass before it disappears under the water's surface. Billy would be more interested in ogling Steve if he wasn't freezing his dick clean off. Billy wastes no time rushing to the jacuzzi and jumping in. The water is so hot it steals his breath for a second. As Billy adjusts to the heat though, his whole body relaxes and he practically melts to the side of the tub.

"Holy shit," he moans, "This feels so goddamn good."

Steve lets out a relaxed sigh next to him, "Yeah, it does."

Steve's eyes slip closed and then snap open only a moment later.

"That's right!" he says suddenly, "I almost forgot!"

Billy is about to ask but Steve hauls himself out of the hot tub before he gets the chance. He clutches his arms around his chest as he hurriedly hops back inside, cursing up a storm the whole way. Steve is only gone for a minute or two and Billy's still snickering by the time he returns. Steve's got a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands. He passes them to Billy before climbing back into the sanctuary of the hot water. Steve sinks down to his chin, letting out a content sigh, while Billy twists open the champagne. He pushes at the cork with his thumb and it shoots off with a resounding pop. Once it's open, Steve takes it from Billy to fill up the glasses in Billy's hands. Then he sneaks a quick drink straight from the bottle before setting it on the edge of the jacuzzi behind them.

"That's the stuff," Steve sighs, taking the cup as Billy hands it to him.

Billy sips the bubbly beverage quickly. Grimaces a little. It's not as sweet as Billy had been expecting. In fact, after all the whiskey the champagne is kind of tart. He likes it.

"Damn, Harrington," Billy smirks, relaxing and throwing one of his arms over the back of the tub, "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

Steve turns in the hot water so he's facing Billy. A smirk pulls across his face, his eyes are glimmering. He takes a big drink of champagne.

"You _are_ special, Hargrove," he says easily, "Really. You're something else."

Billy goes a little breathless, tries a laugh, "Are you trying to seduce me, pretty boy?" Fuck. Billy freezes. He hadn't meant to say that. He's pushing it too far. He's such an _idiot_ \--

"Yeah," Steve answers, shifts closer so Billy can smell the sharp tang of champagne on his breath, "Is it working?"

Billy's lips part in a surprised breath. What. _What?_ Steve is moving closer. Billy's eyes dart down to look at Steve's lips. He swears Steve's going to _kiss_ him. Billy panics. He shoves at Steve's shoulder but not hard enough. Steve doesn't even spill his drink.

"Oh, fuck off," Billy lets out a rough laugh, "You prick."

Steve doesn't laugh back. Billy's hand is still on him. When Steve dips even closer, Billy can't bring himself to push him away again. His fingers curl over the wet muscle of Steve's shoulder. He licks his bottom lip and doesn't miss that Steve watches it happen. Steve's own lips part with a shaky exhale. When he drags his deep, brown eyes back up to meet Billy's, Steve looks more serious than Billy's ever seen. A hand cups his jaw and Billy jumps.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve asks.

Billy sucks in a tight inhale.

This can't be happening, right? Steve is joking. He _has_ to be.

"Don't--" Billy's voice comes out all whisper soft and vulnerable, "Don't joke about shit like that, Harrington."

Steve gulps, trails his thumb up the line of Billy's jaw. 

"Billy," is all he says.

Billy is the one who closes the gap between them. He leans forward just enough to press his lips into Steve's. Then he jerks back like he's been burned. Sick panic creeps up his throat and Billy feels that his eyes are wide, his face has gone pale, his heart is hammering. Steve chases him though. Just as quick as Billy pulls back Steve shifts forward. Steve kisses him. His lips are soft and whiskey sweet, wet from the jacuzzi and snow and sweat. Billy's eyelashes flutter as his eyelids fall. He goes pliant under Steve's touch like he's never done for anything before in his life.

Steve's hand moves, cupping Billy around the nape of his neck. Using his hold, Steve tilts Billy's head back and to the side so he can deepen the kiss. Billy lets him. A sound works its way up Billy's throat, a shuddery gasp. Immediately Steve's tongue slips just inside Billy's mouth. Billy quickly meets it with his own. Steve tastes like champagne and sweat, burns like the alcohol on his breath. Billy's hand slides up the wet curve of Steve's shoulder to clutch at his hair, to pull him even closer. Steve moans into his mouth.

When they part for a muggy breath in the steam of the hot tub, Billy realizes how close they've gotten. Steve's knee is on the bench between Billy's legs. He's practically straddling Billy's thigh. They're both naked, all flushed hot skin pressing together. Billy can feel the brush of Steve's chest against his own as he pants for breath. He's maybe more drunk than he originally thought. Because his head is spinning. He licks the taste of the other boy from his lips. Fuck. Steve tastes good. His lips are kiss worn but so are Steve's. He looks so good, hair mussed up wildly, flushed down to his chest, staring at Billy like he wants to _devour_ him or something.

"You…" Steve starts, his voice is raw with want, "You're a really good kisser."

Steve is drunk too, Billy realizes. They're _drunk_. That's all this is. It _has_ to be.

Billy grins, a little forced. Then he grips Steve by his shoulder and dunks him under the water. That time his drink goes flying out of his hand. When Steve comes back up, sputtering and indignant, glaring at him but completely ineffective because he looks like a drowned rat, Billy cackles. Steve splashes him in the face with a wave of warm water.

"Ass," Steve hisses but he's laughing too. 

Whatever mood had settled between them is broken. Good, Billy wants to think. Instead he's so disappointed he's sick with it. He gulps down the rest of his champagne. Shakes his empty cup in Steve's face.

"C'mon, pretty boy," Billy says, "That fancy shit isn't going to drink itself."

Steve takes a big swig right out of the bottle. Some spills past his lips, down his chin, and Billy watches with rapt attention. When Steve pulls the bottle away, he's looking at Billy like he knows. Billy sets his glass aside, takes the bottle from Steve's grip. Drinks a long pull himself. Then he's leaning forward, emboldened by the alcohol thrumming through his veins and heated look in Steve's eyes. Billy licks the trail of spilled champagne up from Steve's collarbone, up his neck, his chin. All the way up to his lips. Billy pauses, a hair's breadth away.

"You know...You're not so bad at kissing yourself," he tries to sound cocky but his voice rumbles out of him a little desperate and a little breathless.

Steve snatches a handful of Billy’s hair and holds him in place as he presses their lips together again. He doesn't wait a second to get his tongue back into Billy's mouth, licking like he's trying to taste the champagne and skin on Billy’s tongue. Billy's nostrils flare as he breathes in, a bit unsteady. He shouldn't let this happen. His hand drops the bottle as he scrambles to get them around the back of Steve's neck to pull him closer. A surprisingly strong hand grips Billy's thigh and all but hauls him into Steve's lap. Billy goes, lets himself settle over Steve's thighs.

Steve kisses him like he's trying to tango with his tonsils. It drives Billy a little wild. He pushes back, getting his own tongue into Steve's mouth so he can taste every inch of him. Steve's hands tighten, gripping Billy's hair just hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs as dull fingernails dig little red crescents into Billy’s thigh. Billy grabs at the back of Steve's head, fingers tangled in his wet hair, and jerks Steve back. Once he can, Billy catches his breath, panting. Steve is breathing fast too. But he ducks immediately to get his mouth back on Billy, sucking at his throat. Billy tips his head back with a moan. His hands lose their grip and instead Billy stretches his arms out over top of Steve's shoulders.

Billy sighs, it comes out all wet and choked up. He feels like he should be happy, ecstatic, instead Billy is starting to feel _wrong_. He's staring up at the sky. Plumes of steam drift up around them and above the heat snow is still falling. It's cold but the heat from the water and the steam keeps it at bay. When Steve gets his lips over the sensitive bit of flesh just under Billy's ear and _sucks_ , Billy shivers anyway.

"Steve," he sounds choked up, hopes he isn't. His eyes feel hot and wet though, "What are you doing, man?"

Steve's hands ease up. Billy thinks he's going to drop him, move away. Instead, Steve wraps his arms around Billy's back. Billy tenses up from head to toe. It's a _hug_. But Billy hasn't been hugged a lot in his life, especially not by sexy, naked boys who won't stop kissing at his throat.

"I'm seducing you," Steve whispers into Billy's ear, playfully, and nips at his earlobe, "Duh."

Billy exhales, trying to relax, " _Why_?"

Steve finally leans back to look into Billy's eyes. His face is twinkling with amusement, "You're so dumb."

When Steve leans forward to kiss Billy again, Billy shoves him back into the edge of the tub. He's glaring.

"And you're being a prick," Billy snaps, "Why are you doing this to me?"

Steve's face goes all soft. He cups Billy's cheek like Billy is fragile or some shit, gently strokes his thumb over Billy's cheekbone.

Steve smiles, "Because I _want_ you, dumbass," Steve's eyes dart to the side, he stifles a laugh, "You dropped the champagne. That shit was expensive, you know."

Billy's brain is full of static.

"You _want_ me?" he holds Steve in place and Steve looks annoyingly content with it, "What, like, you're drunk enough to try some dick or something? Thought you'd go for the only faggot in Hawkins?"

"Jesus, Billy," Steve scowls, "Don't call yourself that," he gets both his hands on Billy's face, holding him steady, forcing him to look into Steve's eyes as he says, "I don't want your dick 'cause I'm drunk. I want you because I _like_ you. I invited you on this trip because it broke my heart to see you out in the cold. Because I want to show you a good time to cheer you up. Because you looked _cute_ in my hoodie even when you looked all wet and angry," Steve's eyes dart down to Billy's lips, "And I want to kiss you because--fuck--if you could see yourself right now. You're so hot. I--"

Billy slams their mouths together, cutting off whatever else Steve could possibly say. He doesn't think he can stand anymore of whatever this is. His heart is hammering in his chest. Billy isn't used to sweet things being told to him like that. He hasn't been called _cute_ since he was a little kid. _No one_ thinks Billy deserves to be taken in from the cold, cheered up, and no one keeps Billy around because they _like_ him. Billy slips his tongue into Steve's mouth again. No one likes Billy. Not even Billy. _Especially_ not Billy.

"Wait," Steve ducks back, just enough to part their lips again. His thumbs drag across Billy’s cheeks. Billy's skin is wet, "Are you okay?"

Billy startles a little when he realizes the wetness is from the tears slipping down his cheeks. He's an ugly crier, he knows. Billy leans away from Steve to quickly scrub his face clean.

"Fuck," Billy curses.

Steve lets him go but only to hold his waist instead, supporting him. "I'm sorry if I--"

" _Shut up_ ," Billy barks, hands still over his face as he wipes away his tears, "Don't apologize unless you didn't fucking mean it."

"I mean it," Steve sounds so _sure_.

Billy sucks in a shuddery breath, rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes, and nods.

"Okay," his own voice doesn't sound as certain, "Alright," he drops his hands from his face to catch Steve on either side of his jaw, "You want me, pretty boy? Then I'm _all_ yours. Consider me seduced."

He goes for sexy and comes across too sincere instead. Steve's eyes search across his face and end up on Billy’s lips. Steve leans up to kiss Billy again. Billy parts his lips but before he can get his tongue in Steve's mouth, Steve is pulling back. The kiss is quick and chaste and makes Billy even more flustered than Steve trying to play tonsil hockey.

"Awesome," Steve grins.

Then Steve is pushing Billy up and off his lap.

"Let's go back inside, I'm getting pruney as hell," Steve lifts his hand to show Billy the wrinkling tips of his fingers.

Billy bursts out laughing.

He drags Steve out of the jacuzzi. The cold air hits them both more harshly now that they're soaking wet and warm skinned. As they scramble to get inside, Billy shoves Steve to slow him down. Steve squawks while Billy laughs at him. He gets back inside first with Steve hot on his tail. Steve slaps his wet shoulder hard enough to leave a red handprint the moment the door is closed.

"Dick."

"Prick," Billy shoots back.

He steps back into his underwear, pulls them up, wet skin be damned. Behind him, Steve is doing the same. Then Billy grabs Steve's nice, expensive sweater up off the floor and pulls that on too. When he turns, Billy sees that Steve is staring at him again. A toothy smirk cuts across Billy's face.

"What are you looking at?" he teases.

Steve gulps, pans his eyes up Billy's whole body. "You," he says, shameless and honest, "I like you in my clothes."

"Oh yeah?" Billy stays still as Steve steps up into his space.

"Yeah," Steve answers.

Then he grabs Billy by the waist and pulls him into a kiss. Billy goes easily. His own hands come to rest on Steve’s hips, fingers toying with the edge of Steve's boxers. Steve keeps this kiss short too. Way before Billy is ready, Steve parts their mouths, grabs Billy's hand, and drags him to their bedroom. Not that Billy is complaining.

Steve falls back onto the bed first, fanning out his body across the comforter. Before Billy can really admire the view, Steve is pulling him down. He crawls over top of Steve, arms on either side of Steve's shoulders to hold himself up. Steve's hands brush up under his sweater, up Billy's damp, bare sides, as Billy dips down for another kiss. At this angle, Billy has more control. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss immediately. When Billy's tongue slips out along Steve's lip, Steve opens his mouth and meets him with his own tongue. Billy moans.

Steve's hands circle Billy's back, wrapping around his waist, and pull Billy down into his chest. Their legs are tangled, bodies pressed together top to bottom. A stiff length presses into Billy's hip and it sends a delighted wave of arousal up his spine. His own hardness is pushing into Steve's stomach. Billy rolls his hips, grinding against the other boy.

"Fuck yeah," Steve pants, dropping his head back. One of his hands slides down, gets a handful of Billy’s ass, and grips it firmly. Billy lets out a shocked, high sound from the back of his throat. Steve groans in response, "Come on, Billy. You feel so good."

Billy rocks his hips into the other boy again. He wants to reach down, wants to get his hands all over Steve's cock, wants to get his _mouth_ all over it. But he's too close, too drunk. He wants release so bad, wants to see Steve come undone under him. Steve's hips roll up to meet Billy's downward thrust. They both moan into each other’s lips. Billy sucks Steve's tongue into his mouth like it's his cock. Steve makes a sound that's a little frantic, a little hungry. Billy swallows it.

Suddenly Steve's hand moves down the back of Billy's thigh only to come up again under his boxers. Billy jerks his mouth back to gasp harshly when Steve grips his bare asscheek. Steve's fingers dip just inside his asscrack, squeezing, and Billy shudders. He slumps forward into Steve's neck, panting against the other boy's throat, as he works his hips more aggressively.

"Fuck, Steve," Billy growls, "I'm close."

Steve nods quickly, his voice comes out all raw and heated, "Come on. I wanna feel you come, baby."

Billy jerks, his hips rocking down forcefully, as he comes. His cock jerks in his boxers, spilling into the fabric. Billy keeps grinding slowly, just working his orgasm out. When he finally feels overstimulated and sated, Billy eases his hips to a stop and relaxes into Steve's embrace. Billy lays over Steve, panting and dizzy with pleasure and whiskey.

"That was so hot, Billy," Steve's hips jerk up, hard cock still pressing into Billy's hip, "Fuck, I gotta come, man."

Billy rumbles out a laugh into Steve's shoulder. Then he kisses Steve under his ear.

"I got you," he whispers heatedly.

Then Billy pushes himself up so he's no longer laying on the other boy. He kisses down Steve's clavicle, down his sternum, his stomach. Steve's breath hitches. One of his hands grabs at Billy’s shoulder, the other tangles into Billy's hair. Billy stops to nip at the flesh next to Steve's bellybutton and Steve moans impatiently above. It makes Billy grin into Steve's skin as he slides his fingers under Steve's boxers. He pulls them down just enough to free Steve's cock. And, god, what a cock it is. Billy has seen Steve naked but he's always tried to avoid looking. Now, with Steve standing at full attention, Billy _looks_. Steve is hung. It makes Billy’s mouth water, makes him all hot under his skin.

When Billy glances up, he sees that Steve is staring down at him. His brown eyes are burning with want and awe and something that makes his face look all soft and warm. Even flushed red with desire like it is. Billy wraps a hand around Steve's cock and smiles up at the other boy. A little less cocky than he'd been going for. But Steve still makes a cut off gasp when Billy drags the leaking tip of his cock over that very smile. Then Billy takes Steve into his mouth, tongue flat against the bottom of the stiff flesh.

God, Billy loves sucking cock. It's been a long time and he hasn't done it that often. It's always been a risk, even back in Cali. But he knows he's good at it. He works the base of Steve in his hand as his tongue slurps at the leaking head. When he sucks, Billy feels Steve's fingers grip his hair more firmly. His dull nails claw at Billy's shoulder just a little harder. The pinpricks of pain hit Billy's veins like a shock of electric arousal. He moans around Steve's cock and Steve curses in delight. His hips rock up of their own accord and Billy lets him, taking more of Steve's cock into his mouth. His eyes flick back up and Billy watches Steve watch him with hungry, debauched eyes.

Billy moves his hand away, grabs both of Steve's thighs, and relaxes his mouth and throat. He arches a challenging brow up at the other boy. Steve's eyes widen before a flush spreads down his neck and chest. Billy swivels his tongue, sucks a little, swallows the spit gathered in his mouth, but doesn't move. When Steve hesitantly pushes down on Billy's head, Billy moans in delight. Steve pushes his head down a little, lifts a little. Moving Billy no more than an inch. Billy lets all the needy, desperate, hungry feelings in his chest be displayed on his face. The next moans he makes around Steve's cock is a little wanton and desperate.

"Fuck!" Steve gasps, his hips twitch up and Billy moans again, "Oh, fuck, Billy. Do you really--?"

Billy nods.

Then Steve begins rocking his hips up and pushing Billy's head down in tandem. Billy gags a little when Steve's cock hits his throat but he swallows around it. Steve moans frantically above him. Billy’s head is spinning with arousal. As Steve fucks his face, Billy gets a hand into his underwear. Steve's hips are rolling, body flexing, wet from the jacuzzi and a sheen of sweat. Billy thinks he can come from just that sight alone. His cock is slick with tacky come and leaking. He jacks himself off hard and fast as Steve uses his face to chase his own release. 

Steve pushes his head all the way down, until Billy's nose is buried in his pubes. Billy's eyes roll up and he comes in his hand. Steve hurriedly pulls Billy up by his hair, holds him in place, and jacks himself off in a rush. He comes on Billy's face with a hoarse cry. Billy keeps his mouth open, tongue out, letting Steve's load land on his cheek, his lips, in his mouth. Steve makes an incoherent noise watching him. Then he is dragging Billy up his body, licking his own come off Billy's face before sealing their lips together in a sloppy, lazy kiss.

Billy rolls to the side and flops down onto his back. They're both breathing heavy, trying to catch their breath. The room is spinning, now that Billy's laying down. He's sweaty under Steve's sweater but he doesn't want to take it off. As his skin starts to dry, Billy feels cold. After a moment, Steve shifts them around until the blankets are out and then he's bringing them up over their bodies. Billy grunts, thinking about his sticky boxers. His _face_.

"We should clean up," he mutters even as he rolls to the side, head relaxing into the pillow.

"Shh," Steve plasters himself against Billy's back and drops an arm over Billy's waist like he's welcome there, "Later. Sleep now."

"I told you no cuddling," Billy huffs but finds himself pressing back into Steve anyway.

Steve kisses him on the back of the head, "Go to _sleep_ , asshole."

And Billy does.


	5. Chapter 5

When Billy wakes up, he's alone. Which answers the burning question on his mind. What are they going to do about last night? If Steve wants to pretend it never happened or that it was some kind of drunken fluke, Billy can roll with that. He doesn’t _want_ to. But he's not an idiot. It's one thing to drunkenly confess feelings to the guy you're trying to get a blowjob from and _meaning_ it. They can fool around with no strings attached. Steve left Billy to wake up alone because they're not a _thing_. Which suits Billy just fine. Even if it makes him a little sick inside. He can just blame it on the hangover.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Steve's voice rattles Billy's brain. 

He rolls to his stomach and shoves his head under a pillow. A hand claps him on the ass so hard Billy jumps. He throws the pillow off so he can glare up at a far too energetic and pleased-with-himself Steve. Steve grins. The moment Billy is on his back, Steve is leaning down and kissing him. Just a little peck right on his lips. Billy is so stunned he doesn't even pull away.

"I woke up early and you were just so _cute_ drooling all over that I had to let you sleep in," Steve ruffles Billy's hair and Billy slaps his hand away with less force than he probably should, "Come on, get up. I'm jonesing for a cup of coffee."

Alright, so Billy has no idea where they stand. Groaning, he hauls himself to his feet and pads his way into the bathroom. He needs a shower. And a cigarette.

Steve makes Billy put on another of his sweaters _and_ wraps his scarf around Billy's throat. The way Steve's eyes light up make Billy's narrow.

"I get it now. You just like looking at me in your clothes," Billy huffs but secures Steve's scarf anyway, "Possessive bastard."

"No, come on, it's not like that," Steve flaps a hand around wildly, "It's, like, fifteen degrees out," Steve defends but then his eyes twinkle and Steve catches Billy by his scarf, drags him in for a quick kiss, "Okay. It's not the _only_ reason. But really I don't want you freezing your dick off. I like it too much."

Billy snorts.

Coffee and donuts have never been so satisfying. Billy can't tell if it's the rush of warmth from the hot drink and fresh baked goods fighting the hangover, or the fact that Steve smiles at him like he's hung the moon and then _keeps_ smiling at him like that but he's feeling good. Not even the shit weather and persistent headache can put a damper on that. Steve dragging him to some sporting goods store can and does, unfortunately.

"I'd _die_ before wearing that, Harrington," Billy snaps, glaring at the atrocious, chartreuse snow pants Steve is holding above Billy's hips.

"Well, you need to wear _something_ ," Steve huffs, "You can't go skiing in jeans three sizes too small so."

Billy barks out a laugh, "Who says I want to go _skiing_?"

"I do," Steve answers easily, moving on to a different pair of thick pants, red this time, but doesn't even take them off the rack when he sees the look on Billy's face, "At this rate you're going to have to hit the slopes naked."

"Oh, you'd like that," Billy snorts but caves a little. He moves over to the rack of snow gear and sorts through them, "Jesus. Don't _any_ of these come in normal fucking colors? Hot pink? What kinda asshole wears hot pink snow pants?"

Steve snickers, "Tommy wears a matching neon green snow suit."

" _Disgusting_ ," and Billy means it, "What about black? Do any of these come in black?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "Black is so _boring_ though. Don't you want something a little flashy? What about blue with flames on the side?" Steve asks as he holds up a pair of hideous pants, indeed blue with fire up the sides.

Billy drops the forest green pair he was holding and sighs. "I need a smoke," he leaves a cackling Steve behind as he steps out to have his cigarette.

Billy shivers in the snow, smoking quickly. Big puffy flakes of white land in his hair and melt on his eyelashes. The cold bite doesn't feel that bad though. The chill soothes some of the pain in his head. Still, Billy doesn't waste any time getting back inside the store where it's warm. He shakes out the wetness of his hair. Suddenly a hand comes from nowhere and pinches the top of his ear, where it's red and cold. Billy flinches, swatting Steve away.

"You need a hat, babe," Steve chuckles.

Billy flushes red with anger and shame.

" _Don't_ call me that, asshole," he snaps, harsh. He glances around but no one is nearby. No one heard.

Steve, in his defense, looks guilty. "Yeah, shit. Sorry. It just slipped out," he clears his throat and takes a step away from Billy, "I think I found some gear you'll actually wear."

Billy closes the space between them, not liking the way Steve moving away makes him feel. Then he gestures for Steve to lead him to whatever he's found.

Billy is not...completely unimpressed. Steve has found some black snow pants and a dark red winter jacket with grey accents for him. Billy will never wear it outside of this stupid ski lodge but he doesn't hate it. Steve is buying himself an obnoxious set of teal and white. When Billy sneers at it, it only makes Steve more excited. Billy is pretty sure Steve's only buying it _because_ Billy hates it so much. Then Steve picks out some matching purple gloves, a hat, and black boots. With bright orange goggles to top it off. Billy scoffs, disgusted, and finds himself a navy blue hat with some matching gloves, black ski boots and goggles. He wants to look _cool_. Or, well, as cool as one can when "shredding powder" or whatever the fuck Steve keeps calling it.

By the time they leave, Billy is, secretly, excited to go skiing. He's carrying bags of the gear Steve had helped him pick out all while listening to Steve talk about Black Diamond slopes and the thrill of racing down them. It sounds _fun_. Billy rolls his eyes like he doesn't care but he can't fight off the eagerness in his smile. The morning snow has let up and the sun is shining. It's still cold as hell but Billy has always loved the sun. It reflects off the blankets of white over the ground so much it hurts his eyes and Billy _still_ loves it.

When they get back to the lodge, they grab a quick lunch, a couple of sandwiches from room service. Then Steve _insists_ on helping Billy get dressed. Billy changes into a pair of comfy sweats and a muscle tee, what he works out in, to wear under his gear. Then Steve is there, helping him pull up his snow pants, velcroing them closed under Billy's navel. Billy sighs but lets the other man have his way. Once Steve has zipped up Billy's jacket, he kisses him, short and sweet.

Then Billy puts on his new boots while he watches Steve gear up. He looks _hilarious._ Like a fucking Dixie cup. Billy still wants to make out with him though. 

Billy stands and pulls Steve into a feisty kiss, getting his tongue into Steve's mouth right away. Steve moans and lets him, parting his lips for Billy so easily. Billy can't even blame the whiskey for the way his head spins when Steve kisses him. Steve presses into Billy, turning and pushing his back into the door. Billy gets his hands over Steve's ass and pulls the other boy into him. They both moan into each other but the thick clothes keep their bodies from really touching. Billy is half tempted to yank the damn coats and pants they just put on right back off. Instead, Steve pulls away before he can.

"Jesus," Steve pants against Billy's lips, kissing Billy on his cheek, "I don't think I'll ever get used to that. Your _tongue_ man."

Billy chuckles but he feels warm under his collar. "Oh, pretty boy," he licks a quick stripe up Steve's chin, up his lips, "You have _no idea_ what my tongue can do."

Steve _whines_. His warm, brown eyes and flushed, pink cheeks look a little desperate. He bites his kissed red lip and oh. Billy wants to watch the other man fall apart under his touch, wants Steve to _take him apart_ , so bad he's dizzy with it. Steve presses their lips together again quickly.

"Skiing. We need to--" Steve closes his eyes, licks his lips, "Ski."

"Okay, baby," Billy pulls Steve closer with a firm grip on his ass, "Then let's go skiing."

Steve groans, waits, then pushes himself away from the door. Billy chuckles, letting Steve move out from his grip. 

"Skiing," Steve repeats, grabbing Billy's hat and pulling it down over Billy's head, "Let's do this."

Billy flirts with two girls at a water cooler while Steve rents them some skis. They tell Billy they like his earring and he tells them he likes their leg warmers. When he looks down their legs, they giggle. Steve comes back with a pinched look on his face and drags Billy toward the exit. Billy makes Steve carry their skis so he can light up a smoke the minute they're outside in the cold. The chill is way more bearable in snow pants. Not that Billy would confess to it.

Outside there's a hustle and bustle of people. All wrapped up in their own worlds. Some are sitting at the tables for outdoor dining at the lodge's restaurant. Some are gliding by effortlessly on their skis. A few are playing Christmas music from a boombox. Billy is pretty sure it's Wham!'s Last Christmas. Because of course it is. Kids are playing in the snow and laughing. It's all so picturesque it's cheesy.

"Why do you have to do that?" Steve huffs as he leads Billy toward some gently curving slopes where bored, overworked teenagers are trying to instruct children, "You don't have to chase every girl that looks twice at you, you know."

Billy blinks. He's only just realized that Steve is pissy because he's _jealous._ Seriously? That kind of blows Billy's mind.

"Steve," Billy tries not to laugh. He catches Steve's elbow, pulls him to a stop. Then he speaks lowly, just for Steve's ears, "I don't like girls, man."

Steve looks at Billy with wide eyes. "You _don't_?" 

Billy whispers, "Get with it, Harrington. I told you I'm a fag already--"

"Don't call yourself that," Steve repeats, "Use, like, _gay_ or something. That word sucks."

"Shut _up_ , man," Billy is trying to be quiet and Steve clearly _isn't_ , "But alright, _fine_. I'm _gay_. So no need to get your panties in a twist over a couple of girls. Jesus Christ."

Steve ducks his head, nodding. He looks truly cowed now, guilty and a little red. Billy isn't quite sure if it's the cold or if Steve's embarrassed.

"Sorry," Steve finally says, "I didn't mean to be an asshole," he pauses then adds, quieter, "Also I like girls. And boys. Just so it's out there."

"Congrats," Billy says dryly. But he does lay a hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezes it a little. Saying shit like that out loud is hard, Billy knows.

Steve smiles at him, "Right. So," he claps his hands, "Time to get your learn on!"

Billy's face morphs into a scowl, "God, you're insufferable," but Billy doesn't mean it, "I thought you were a great skiing master or some shit."

Steve's grin doesn't falter, "I am."

"Then why do you want some twink seconds away from bashing his brains out to teach me," Billy purrs, just a little, "when you could be teaching me yourself?"

"What's a twink?" Steve asks before Billy's words seem to sink in and the redness in his cheeks burns a shade deeper.

Billy shifts his hand, so he can stroke his thumb up the side of Steve's neck, "I want _private_ lessons, pretty boy."

He grins when Steve gulps, "Yeah," Steve sounds a little breathless, clears his throat, "Yeah, baby. I'll teach you everything you want to know."

Billy goes a little red too at that, "Then come on. Show me how it's done."

"Fuck," Steve curses under his breath, catches Billy by his wrist, and pulls Billy's fingers away from his throat, "I can't teach you anything with a boner, you asshole."

Billy tongues at the corner of his mouth, "Sure you can. I'm _eager_ to learn _all_ about this boner of yours."

Steve groans, clearly flustered, "Oh my god. Shut _up_."

Billy bursts out laughing, tipping his head back and clutching at his stomach.

"Don't cream your snow pants, pretty boy," he giggles.

Steve slaps him on the shoulder, "Jesus. Just come on already."

"Oh, believe me," Billy wipes at his wet eyelashes, "I want to."

Steve rolls his eyes and presses Billy's skis into his chest. Billy barely catches them before Steve is whirling around and walking away. Still snickering, Billy follows. Steve does end up teaching Billy how to ski. He starts by showing Billy how to put them on, heel first then the toe of his boot until they click into place. Then he's explaining how to crouch, keeping his arms out and his shins forward, back straight.

"You need to keep your balance," Steve explains.

Billy snorts, "I've been surfing since I was _six_. I know how to keep my balance."

Steve grins at him, a challenge, "Oh, yeah? Prove it then, hotshot."

So Billy does. He isn't lying. Billy can keep his balance on anything. After riding twenty foot waves on the California coast, Billy knows what he's doing. Standing still on a pair of skis just isn't that challenging. When Steve looks at him like he's impressed, Billy can't help but preen a little. Steve wastes no time showing Billy the basics. How to move and shift, how to stop, how to use the poles to propel ahead. It's straightforward. As the day moves into early evening, Billy gets impatient. He's much more of a learn-by-doing kind of guy.

"Are we going to ski or stand here talking about it all day?" Billy presses.

Steve huffs, kind of a laugh and kind of a sigh, "Alright, alright. Let's start off small though, okay?"

Billy snorts, "Ever heard of go big or go home, Harrington?"

Steve glares at him, "Fine. But it's not my fault if you break your legs or something."

"Oh, please," Billy rolls his eyes, "Can we just go already?"

The foot traffic has slowed down by the time they get to the chair lift. The restaurant is booming with more people though, rowdy young adults clearly drinking, singing along to Jingle Bells like it's karaoke night. It seems like mornings are for skiing and evenings are for partying. Billy can respect that. It also means him and Steve are going to run into less people out on the slopes. Steve slides into the lift first and Billy follows right after. The ride up is a little nerve-wracking. Heights always make his heart race, fear mixed with the excitement of danger. Billy looks down past his skis at the snow covered trees as they shrink below. His stomach drops, like riding a rollercoaster. It makes him a little sick but eager for some action too.

When they reach the summit, Billy feels that adrenaline tenfold. They're so high up, the lodge looks small as hell in the distance. The slope is white with snow, steep, sprinkled with trees and ski jumps. It looks _dangerous_. Billy's heart is pounding at the thrill of it. Him and Steve are alone up here. Steve pulls his goggles down over his eyes as he tells Billy to follow him. Billy gets a hand in Steve's coat and pulls him into a kiss that's all teeth and tongue. A surprised noise leaves Steve and gets muffled by Billy's lips. When Billy pulls back, he's grinning from ear to ear. Then Billy pulls his goggles down too and gestures for Steve to take the lead. When Steve jumps down the slope, Billy follows.

Riding down the mountain is exhilarating. Billy gains speed quickly until the world around him is whizzing by in flashes of coniferous green and sparkling white. Ahead he sees Steve flying through the snow, hitting jumps and showing off. Billy lets out a whoop when Steve lands smoothly. It's hot, seeing Steve all confident and in his element again. It helps too that Billy's heart is pounding, veins alive and thrumming. Cold whips his cheeks, air whooshes past his ears, snow surges over his skis. Then he turns too sharply. Immediately Billy falls. He rolls, his skis go flying, and Billy is laughing as he lands hard on his back. He's by some trees, in less disturbed, still fluffy snow. Off the main path a little.

Steve skids to a stop further down the slope. Billy is still chuckling when Steve makes his way over to him, carrying Billy's lost skis and poles. Above Billy, Steve's goggles are pushed up his forehead and tangled in his wild hair sticking out from under his hat. He looks all worried, kind of panicked.

"Holy shit! Are you okay?"

Billy shoves his goggles up, catching his hat and knocking them both off. He's smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

"That was so much fun," Billy laughs.

Steve grins, "You're a maniac."

He sticks his poles into the snow and takes his skis off, dropping Billy's skis and poles next to his own. Then Steve is sinking down to his knees next to Billy's supine form. His hands grip Billy's jacket and press Billy down into the snow as he leans over him. Steve kisses Billy right on his smile. Billy's heart is still hammering in his chest. The smell of Steve and fresh snow and wet hair makes Billy's head spin. The moan he lets out into Steve's mouth is a little high, just this side of desperate.

"Steve, please," he pants into Steve's lips, a plea. He doesn't even know what he's begging for.

Steve moans, shifting to get his knee between Billy's legs. Billy immediately spreads his thighs, making room for the other boy. Steve presses down into him, so their bodies are grinding together and Billy can thrust up against Steve's thigh. Steve over him is all heat and friction while below the snow makes cold seep through his clothes. A chill runs from the back of his neck down his spine. Steve's hands fall to the bottom of Billy's coat, shoving it up and exposing his bare stomach and back to the cold. Billy sucks in a strangled breath, arching his hips up to get away from the chill. It's exhilarating, making out with Steve here. They're in the open, they're in the cold, they're outside in the snow. Billy's sweating under his snow gear and freezing where his skin is bare. He meets Steve's lips again, tongue first. Then Steve catches him by the hips and shoves him down. Billy yanks his head back so hard he smacks their foreheads together.

"Steve, Steve, Steve," his hands scramble down, trying to push Steve's off. His exposed back is burning against the snow below. But Billy's cock is straining in his pants. The cold is shocking in a way that steals his breath but makes his heart pound in his ears too. Billy stops trying to move Steve's hands and grips them instead, "Oh, fuck, Steve. Don't stop. I'm so close."

Steve grinds down into him, hard, and lets out a choked moan. He kisses down Billy's chin, down his jaw, all sloppy and wet. His saliva goes frosty immediately in the cold, making Billy shiver and shudder even more. He's hot and cold, dizzy with it. Billy clutches at the back of Steve's jacket, yanking Steve down into him even harder. Steve presses, pushes, thrusts against him forcefully. Holding Billy down into the numbing cold. And Billy lets out the most embarrassing whine as he comes. His head falls back and Billy's cock jerks in his pants. Then he's coming so hard his vision goes a bit white at the edges. A string of incoherent pleas and curses tumble from his lips as Billy shudders through his release.

"Shit that was so hot, Billy," Steve pants, all hot, warm breath, against Billy's throat, "You're so fucking _gorgeous_ when you come, baby."

Billy squirms as Steve grinds into his overly sensitive, spent cock. His back is burning against the cold snow and it's no longer sexy now that he's climaxed. Billy sees that Steve is about to come. The moment Steve gasps out Billy's name, jerks his hips down hard, and finishes, Billy grabs two handfuls of snow and shoves them up under the back of Steve's coat. Steve jumps, lets out an undignified squawk, and Billy melts into an embarrassing fit of snorts and giggles at his expense. Steve shoves himself up to his knees to shake the snow out of his clothes.

"Ass," he huffs.

Billy lays back, still chuckling, with his stomach and back still bare to the cold. He watches Steve's warm brown eyes go all soft and amused. Then Steve is reaching down and fixing Billy's coat back into place. Billy stops laughing to swallow thickly. Steve's hands rub at his sides, over his coat, like he's trying to warm him up. It's all so _tender_. Billy feels himself getting choked up and uncomfortable with it. So he pushes himself up to his elbows and grins.

"Let's go again," he says.

Steve goes a little wide-eyed, "Oh. Uh, yeah. I may need a minute. Are you really hard already?"

"No, dumbass," Billy tosses a handful of snow at Steve's dumb, beautiful face, "Let's go down the mountain again. I think I'm getting the hang of it."

Steve smiles so hard it lights up his whole face and offers Billy a hand up.


	6. Chapter 6

Billy gets to the shower first. Which doesn't _matter_ , apparently, because Steve bullies his way into it with him anyway. Billy can't be mad though, especially when Steve washes his hair for him. It feels good, fingers in his hair and massaging along his scalp. Billy washes Steve's for him in return. When Steve starts to get a little handsy though, stroking his fingers down Billy's abdomen with only one clear destination in mind, Billy kicks him out. He's trying to actually wash up and he doesn't want Steve getting in his way. Steve laughs, teases him, but obliges and leaves Billy to it.

The hot water feels good after being in the cold for so long. They stayed out, skiing down all the different slopes, until it was dark and the slopes were closed. Billy has a wicked bruise on his knee where he fell down after trying one of the jumps. Normally Billy's bruises make him feel all ashamed and furious and sick. Because normally his bruises don't come from something as fun as trying to show off for the boy he likes. This bruise doesn't feel bad even though it kind of hurts. Billy stays in the hot water for longer than he needs before finally getting out. He dries off, wraps a towel around his waist, gets one over his head and in his hair.

When he comes out of the bedroom, in a pair of Steve's pajama pants and one of his henley shirts, Billy stops short. The fireplace is roaring to life, crackling and lighting up the living room in a warm, orange glow. The radio is playing some R&B, a woman singing soulfully. It's snowing again outside. Big, white flakes drift past the window, shadowed by the black of night. The atmosphere is...romantic. Steve comes out of the kitchen, holding two mugs in his hands. He spots Billy and smiles at him like _that_ again.

"You don't have to try so hard, pretty boy," Billy snorts, "I already told you: I'm seduced."

Steve steps up into Billy's space, passes him a cup. It's fucking hot chocolate. With marshmallows. There's not even the smell of alcohol to it. Sure enough, when Billy takes a sip, it's just pure chocolate and cream.

"Yeah, well, I'm a romantic. Sue me," Steve tucks a strand of curly blond hair behind Billy's ear.

Billy feels his ears warm. He clears his throat, takes another drink of cocoa. "What are we listening to?" he asks as a distraction.

"Don't tell me you have a problem with _Sade_ ," Steve grouses but he's clearly amused.

"I didn't say that," Billy shrugs, "It's different. But I don't hate it."

Steve leans in and kisses him. It's so soft. Billy doesn't think he'll ever get tired of Steve's lips. All the times he'd imagined what they'd feel like don't compare to reality in the slightest. Steve's mouth is plush and soft, always moving just right against his own. Steve really is an amazing kisser. Better than anyone Billy's ever kissed before. But Billy doesn't know if that's because of Steve's skill or because of how Billy's heart goes all wild and his stomach flutters and his head goes a bit spinny whenever it happens. Billy kisses Steve back with a little fire, slipping his tongue out to taste the hot chocolate on Steve's lips. Steve parts their mouths too soon, resting his forehead over Billy's.

"Billy," Steve whispers, eyes hazy and warm, "I never want to stop kissing you."

Billy lets his eyes flutter shut, "Then _don't_ , asshole."

Steve bumps his nose into Billy's gently, "I want to...Can we…?"

When he trails off, Billy opens his eyes to look at him again. Steve's biting his lip, something like nervousness on his face. Then his features smooth when their eyes meet. And Steve smiles.

"I want you, Billy," he says, all honest and earnest and oh. _Oh._

Billy lets out a shaky breath, kisses Steve quickly, "I want you too."

Billy lets Steve take their hot chocolate. He sets both mugs down on the end table by the couch. Billy watches as Steve pulls the fuzzy throw blanket off the sofa and lays it down on the rug in front of the fireplace. Then Steve comes back, gets Billy's hands in his own, and pulls him around the couch. He steers him backward toward the blanket.

"Take your clothes off and lay down for me," Steve tells him.

Billy is uncharacteristically nervous. There's something about the way Steve is treating him, all gentle, and looking at him, all enamored, that makes Billy feel out of his element. He reaches up and catches the back of Steve's borrowed shirt before pulling it off over his head. He tosses it to the couch. Billy feels heat and arousal coil in his stomach when he sees that Steve is watching him. Billy slides his pants and underwear down next, throwing them next to Steve's shirt. Once he's fully nude, Billy sinks down. He watches Steve's eyes pan over his body as Billy lays back on the blanket. His legs are bent at the knee and Billy lifts his arms, resting them above his head so he's nice and stretched out. Steve's eyes have gone dark. His face is all red. Steve licks his lips quickly then meets Billy's eye.

"Stay right there," he croaks.

Billy arches a brow but can't fight off the amusement on his face. Steve turns and scrambles to the bedroom. Billy pushes himself up to his elbows to watch where Steve's going but does, indeed, stay put. When Steve rushes back only a moment later, he's pulling off his own shirt. Then he's pushing his pants down and off too. He chucks them into the pile of Billy's forgotten pajamas and immediately drops to his knees between Billy's calves. He lifts a box of condoms and a bottle of lube before setting them down onto the blanket.

"Almost forgot," Steve chuckles, a little breathless.

Billy feels a little breathless too.

Steve's hand finds Billy's ankle and strokes up the coarse hair of his shin. He stops just below Billy's bent knee. Steve is looking down at the purple and green painted across Billy's skin. Billy's breath gets all caught up in his throat when Steve leans down and kisses him on his bruise, so gentle Billy can barely feel it. It's like Steve is trying to make it better. Billy doesn't...people don't _do_ that for him. 

"So how do you want to do this?" Steve asks, "’Cause I've never, you know, been with a guy before."

"Neither have I," Billy admits, strangely abashed. 

He's fooled around some, sure. Slept with girls to keep up appearances. But he's never had sex with a man before. He wants to, though. He wants to with Steve.

"Will you, uh--?" Billy starts, stumbling over his words, but quickly gets frustrated with his own stammering, "Jesus, Steve, just fuck me already."

"I don't want to _fuck_ you, Billy," Steve kisses the inside of Billy's knee quickly, "Not right now, anyway," Steve's words have just started to piss Billy off, he feels all rebuffed and embarrassed, before Steve adds, "Tonight I want to make love. Can we do that? I want our first time to be special."

All the air leaves Billy's lungs when Steve looks up at him. He's pink cheeked, smiling too much like he's grimacing. Steve's embarrassed. It's _cute_. But Billy feels like his heart's in his throat, choking him. It's what he _wants_ but it's also everything Billy is _terrified_ of. Still, Billy swallows thickly. And he nods.

"Okay, pretty boy," his voice is hoarse, subdued and quiet, "Let's...do it your way."

When Steve smiles at him, all dazzlingly perfect, Billy knows he's made the right choice. He used to think he was a sucker for pretty boys but now Billy's almost positive he's just a sucker for _Steve_. 

Steve leaves a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses down the inside of his thigh. He's still looking up into Billy's eyes while he does. Arousal shivers down Billy's spine. His half hard cock stiffens even more, his chest begins expanding up and down more quickly. The fire is still roaring next to them. Billy thinks he'd probably be cold without it. But instead the heat makes him feel warm all over. Sweat prickles across his chest. Steve nips at Billy's inner thigh, where the skin is sensitive and soft, and Billy jumps a little. One of his hands tangles into Steve's hair but he doesn't pull on it or anything. 

Around them, smooth, soulful music is still playing. Billy _likes_ fucking to Mötley Crüe. Likes the metal, the hard rock, the way it kind of makes fucking feel like fighting. But this is good too. Steve's mouth feels sweet on him, kisses at Billy like he's savoring him. Something a little slower, a little smoother, fits better.

Billy squirms, "Steve. Come on already."

Steve gets his hands over the tops of Billy’s legs and spreads them even more. Billy's chest trips over a breath. That shouldn't be as hot as it is, probably. Steve grins up at him before turning back to Billy's lap. He sucks at the plushest part of Billy’s inner thigh, the little bit of fat Billy can't get rid of no matter how hard he works out, with enough force to leave a mark. A startled grunt is knocked from Billy's throat and he pulls at Steve's hair that time, just a little.

" _Steve_ ," Billy growls in warning.

Steve chuckles, lets Billy pull him away. "What's the rush?" Steve's face is flushed with arousal and his lips are full and wet. It drives Billy a little crazy. Steve's hands slide up Billy's legs, to his waist, as he speaks, "We have all night and I want to find every, single thing that makes you moan my name, baby."

Billy’s ears go all warm, he feels the flush travel down his neck and chest. He licks his lips quickly. Then Billy lets out a disbelieving laugh. Steve really is something else. Billy uses the hold he has on Steve's hair to pull him up.

"Come up here and kiss me, dumbass," he whispers playfully as he seals their lips together.

Steve immediately obliges him. He pushes his tongue past Billy's relaxed lips. Billy moans into it, slick with spit and muggy with shared breath. His legs are spread open on either side of Steve's knees. Steve's hands have moved so his arms are holding him up around Billy’s shoulders. Billy slides down so he's flat on his back and Steve goes with him. It's intimate, being naked and close like this. Steve sinks down to his elbows so he can press into Billy even more. Billy wraps his arms behind Steve's neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Steve's tongue slips into his mouth so deep it stirs a shaky groan from Billy's chest. Steve parts their lips only far enough to suck in a tight breath.

"Fuck," he whispers into Billy's mouth, "You taste so good. How are you so sweet?"

Billy snorts, "Someone gave me hot chocolate for dinner."

"That someone is a genius," Steve murmurs, eyes hooded but twinkling all the same, "But I think I'd still like the taste of you even without the cocoa."

"Jesus," Billy drops his head back to the blanket, "You're a real sweet talker, you know that?"

"Yeah, well," Steve noses along Billy's jaw, "You make it easy. You're kinda perfect."

Billy jolts. He is _not_. Not even close. If anything _Steve_ is the one…

"Shut up, Harrington," Billy wants to sound mean but instead he sounds hurt, "I already said you can fuck me. You don't have to be _nice_ to me like--"

"Billy," Steve cuts him off, pushing himself up and putting a little space between them, "I'm not being nice because I'm trying to get into your pants. I _like_ you."

Billy scoffs, "You don't even _know_ me."

Steve's eyes go all soft again, "I want to," he kisses Billy so quick Billy doesn't have time to react, "but I like what I know so far," he kisses Billy's cheek, "I like your freckles," he kisses Billy's jaw, "I like the way you give me shit," he chuckles a little, then kisses Billy right below his ear, "I like you when you're happy and when you're angry--"

"Steve--" Billy tries, his chest is heaving with breaths. He doesn't know if he's turned on or terrified.

"I like you when you're showboating," Steve kisses Billy's throat, "I like when you get back up and try again every time you fall," he kisses Billy's collarbone. There's a scar there, where Neil pushed him down the stairs and broke his clavicle. Steve kisses that too, "I like you, Billy. And I'll like you when you open up and let me in. I know it," he kisses the top of Billy's sternum. Then Steve folds his hand across Billy's chest and lays down over him, resting his chin onto his arm, "You're good, Billy. I know you don't think so," Steve's other hand brushes Billy's hair off his forehead, "But I know so. So shut up and listen to me for once, you dick."

Billy gulps. He feels like he should say something. But his throat is tight. He doesn't trust his voice. So instead Billy nods again. He catches Steve's fingers still toying with his hair and brings them down to his lips. He kisses them with something like reverence. Steve smiles at him again. Billy doesn't think he'll ever get used to it, kind of doesn't want to.

"Steve…?" Billy finally says, voice croaky and strained

Steve arches a brow at him.

"Can you get off of me? You're heavy as shit.”

Steve bursts into a fit of laughter. He does push himself up so Billy can catch his breath again but not before pinching Billy's side hard enough to make him yelp.

"Prick," he says as he steadies himself over Billy's body.

Billy sticks his tongue out, "You love it, pretty boy."

"Yeah," Steve answers, too genuine, "I do."

Billy blinks up at the other boy. Then Steve kisses the surprise right off of his face. When Steve grabs a handful of Billy's hair to tilt his head so he can get his tongue deeper into Billy's mouth, Billy melts. His cock twitches where it's rock hard, drooling precum into his bellybutton. Billy fucking _whimpers_. Steve moans into his mouth in return. 

Billy gets his hands down Steve's sides. Slides one around his front. Billy drags the tips of his fingers through the thin smattering of hair on Steve's chest. Down his solid abdomen. Down to the leaking tip of his cock. Steve jerks their lips apart to curse when Billy wraps a hand around him. Jesus, Steve is big. Billy knew that already. But feeling the girth of him in his palm again reminds him just _how_ big. And fuck. Billy wants to feel that monster _inside_ of him.

"Steve," Billy pants against Steve's mouth, "Get _in_ me."

" _Shit_ ," Steve groans then nods his head, "Yeah. Yeah, let me just--"

He sits up, pulling himself out of Billy's hold. Billy's eyes trail down Steve's body, appreciating him. Steve isn't as bulky as Billy but he's still fit. His shoulders and biceps are toned. His obliques are _cut_ , full ridges of muscle sloping down from his ribs to his stomach. He doesn't have a six pack but his abdomen has a healthy set to it. Dark hair trails up from his cock to his navel, there's a patch between his pecs. His skin is pale, decorated with moles. Steve really is pretty but not necessarily pretty like a girl. He's attractive in the softest places, the warm, brown of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, the untoned weight of his slim frame. He's masculine yet nothing about him shies away from gentleness. He's the most beautiful thing Billy has ever seen.

Steve fumbles with a condom, laughing at his own expense.

"Christ, I haven't been this nervous since I fingered Peggy Walter in the seventh grade," he offers up.

Billy rolls his eyes but it's all playful. Sitting up, Billy takes the condom from Steve's uncoordinated grip.

"Here, let me," he says, voice hoarse with arousal.

Steve swallows thickly, looking at Billy, "Okay."

He watches as Billy pries the wrapper open with his teeth. Billy's put a condom on another guy before but it's been a long time. Still, the act is simple enough. He rolls the slippery rubber down Steve's cock with tenderness he wouldn't use if he was putting it on himself. Once secured, Billy pumps Steve's cock a couple times. Steve's hips rock into his touch a little while his hands pet along Billy's shoulders. Billy darts closer so he can kiss Steve next to his bellybutton. Turning, he licks at the tip of Steve's hard cock through the condom, smirks up at Steve when Steve makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. Then Billy sinks back to the floor.

"Should I--?" Billy asks, moving to roll over. Steve catches him by his hips and stops him.

"Can we do it like this?" Steve asks.

Billy doesn't know, really. But he figures they can try.

"Yeah, alright," Billy relaxes onto his back.

Steve shimmies closer, getting his thighs under Billy's. Billy wraps his legs around Steve's waist. This position puts a little strain on his abs but it's nothing Billy can't handle. He works out all the time, this is nothing compared to that. Steve's eyes pan over the sharpened definition of Billy’s six pack and he moans. Steve strokes a hand up Billy's tight stomach.

Steve licks at his lips quickly, "Fuck, you're hot."

Billy’s _impatient_. Feels like he's been waiting for this forever. "Steve, I swear to God," Billy groans, flopping back and reaching up to run his hands through his hair, "If you don't _make love to me_ right now, I'm going to do it myself."

Steve scrambles, reaching for the lube, "Right. Yes. Sorry. You're distracting, babe."

Billy snorts.

He ends up dropping one arm over his eyes, leaves the other to lay over his head. Billy swallows his nerves as he hears Steve open the lube with a clack. His heart is hammering away in his chest. Billy closes his eyes, focuses on the crackling of the fire, the wind howling outside, the sultry voice coming from the radio. He feels something wet and cold and slippery drip down his ass and tenses, hissing.

"Sorry, it's cold," Steve chuckles nervously.

Billy can't help a little, anxious laugh himself, "Warning's a little late there, pretty boy."

Steve's hand settles on the underside of Billy's bicep, slides warm and easy up Billy's arm, wraps gently around his wrist. Billy's eyes flutter open. Then Steve is lifting Billy's arm away from his face. He presses it into the blanket next to Billy's head. Steve lets go to cup Billy's cheek instead and Billy leaves his arm where Steve placed it.

"Are you ready?" Steve asks even though he doesn't need to.

Billy is. He's nervous but he wants it.

"Yeah, Steve," his voice sounds all kinds of soft and eager, "I want you."

"I want you too. Just--" he pauses, "Just tell me to stop if you need it, okay? I don't want to hurt you."

Billy feels his eyes get hot, chokes down the emotions swelling up his throat.

"Okay," he agrees, turning so he can kiss Steve's palm where it rests on his cheek.

Steve leans down, steering Billy into a quick kiss, before pulling back again. His hand falls to Billy's waist, helping to hold his hips up, while his other guides his cock. Billy feels the slippery, latex covered tip slide down the crux of his thigh, press against his balls then under them. Billy tries to stay relaxed. Steve's cock bumps against his asshole and Billy's stomach flutters. The pressure feels good. He doesn't know if it's the anticipation from waiting so long but when Steve nudges against his entrance Billy feels it like an electric shock of pleasure up his spine. He moans, back arching.

Then Steve is pushing inside.

Scrambling, Billy reaches down to grab Steve’s hand. The stretch of Steve's tip alone is a lot. There's plenty of lube but Billy still isn't sure Steve's going to fit. His asshole resists but Billy tries to relax, wants to let Steve in. When Steve's cock finally pops past his tight ring of muscle, Billy lets out a startled yelp. It hurts enough to shock the breath from Billy's lungs. He tenses up, chest heaving. Steve stills then immediately tries to pull back.

"No, don't," Billy whines, squeezes his legs more tightly around Steve's waist to hold him in place, "Just give me a sec."

"I'm hurting you," Steve's voice is strained.

Billy shakes his head, "It's just a lot. I can take it."

Steve grabs Billy by his thighs and pries his legs off. Then Steve is slipping out of him and Billy feels a tight coil of embarrassment constrict his chest. It's like he's failed at something. Red burns across his chest and cheeks. Billy kind of wants to push Steve away and tell him to fuck off, lash out. Right as he's really considering it, Steve stops him.

"I have an idea," Steve tells him, "I want you to feel _good_ , Billy. Otherwise, what's the point? Here, just lay back," Steve presses on Billy's chest, easing him down from Steve's lap into a more comfortable position on the floor, "Relax."

Then Steve is pouring lube onto his hand, getting his fingers all slippery.

"What are you doing?" Billy finds himself asking.

Steve smirks up at him. Then he's reaching between Billy's parted thighs. Billy wonders, briefly, if Steve's going to jerk him off. But instead Steve's fingers slide up his asscrack and land on his hole. Billy sucks in a tight breath.

"This okay?" Steve asks, circling his fingers around Billy's opening.

Billy is embarrassed now for a whole different reason. The thought of Steve's long, beautiful fingers inside him makes Billy's veins come alive. He's nodding before he even realizes it, a bit too eagerly. Steve grins at him anyway.

Steve slides a finger into him in one long, slick glide. Billy's body still tenses, it still kind of hurts, but it's not nearly as bad. When Billy lets out a slow exhale, wills himself to relax, the intrusion starts to feel good. It's an odd sort of pressure inside of him but Billy likes it. Steve starts moving his finger, sliding in and out, twisting, and it rips a loud, heady moan from Billy's chest. When Steve presses up into Billy's inner walls, Billy's whole body shudders with it. Shit. Billy's never felt something like it before but it's good. It's so damn good.

"More," Billy pants, rolls his hips up a little, "Come on. Give me another."

Steve's breath leaves him in a shaky gasp. Then he pulls his finger out only to come right back with another. He pushes two inside of Billy, slow but without pause or hesitation. Billy grunts when he feels Steve's knuckles against the rim of his asshole. They're in deep, pressing, wriggling, pushing against Billy's insides. When Steve spreads them apart, Billy cries out in surprise. His cock dribbles over his navel, red and swollen and harder than Billy's sure it's ever been. Steve slides his fingers out then shoves them back inside with force. Billy's knees jerk, clenching at Steve's hips.

"Oh fuck," he gasps and when Steve does it again Billy tosses his head back, body arching, "Fuck, Steve."

"Does that feel good, baby?" Steve practically purrs, sliding his fingers out before pressing in again, with three this time, "Want more?"

"Yes," Billy growls, breathless with lust, "Give me more. Anything. Want you so bad."

"Want you too, Billy," Steve pants.

And Steve doesn't disappoint, sliding three slender fingers into Billy's body. The stretch is more, nearly too much. Billy shivers through it. Steve goes slower but again doesn't stop or hesitate. It's almost like he wants his fingers in Billy's ass as much as Billy does. Billy keens, a high, desperate noise from the back of his throat. Steve's other hand strokes down his stomach, wraps around Billy’s trembling cock. 

Billy is panting, thighs shaking, when Steve's fingers finally slide in as far as they can go. Steve wastes no time spreading them, rubbing and stroking Billy's inner walls at the same time he begins pumping Billy's cock. Billy arches his back, pulls at his own hair. His body feels like a livewire of electric pleasure. His veins are burning with it. His head is fuzzy with arousal. Steve twists his wrist, rubs his thumb over the head of Billy's cock, pushes and pulls his fingers in and out of Billy's body. Suddenly Billy feels like a rubber band about to _snap._ He sits up in a rush, catches Steve's wrists.

"Stop, Steve. _Stop_ ," his voice comes out all shaky, all desperate, like he's begging.

Steve jerks away from him _fast_. His eyes are guilty and worried.

"Shit, are you okay?" Steve immediately asks before Billy can catch his breath. Billy sees Steve's eyes land on his shaking thighs and they go even _wider_ , "Oh god. Did I hurt you? What happened? Billy, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"Jesus, Steve, shut _up_ for a second," Billy chuckles, still breathless, "I didn't want to come yet. God, I was so fucking close. Thought I was going to nut before you even got inside me."

Steve lets out a relieved sigh, then frowns and smacks Billy's shoulder.

" _Ass_ ," he scolds, "You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry," Billy doesn't sound sorry even a little, "But it's your fault. Your fingers turned my brain to mush."

Steve blushes a little, "Oh. Uh, sorry."

Billy laughs then, "Jesus. What are you _sorry_ for? It's good, Steve. I'm good. Want to try getting your cock in me again?" Billy pokes his tongue out, wiggles his eyebrows a little.

Steve snorts but his cheeks only go more rosy.

"I mean, yeah. I'd like that," he sounds all nervous again, "If you're sure."

"I've _been_ sure," Billy lays back, shifts around again so his legs are wrapped around Steve's waist, so his hips are angled up a little, "Come on. Don't make me beg, baby."

That time Steve really does go red. All down his neck and across his collarbone. Billy just grins up at him.

"You'd like that, huh?" Billy presses. Then his smirk falls. Billy lowers his voice, licks his lip quickly, meets Steve's gaze with hooded eyes, "Please, Steve. I want you so bad. Please, give it to me, baby." 

Steve grabs him by his hips tightly, a breathless noise escaping through his nose. Billy chuckles, undeniably pleased. His laugh gets choked off by a moan though when Steve's cock pushes at him. Steve's slicked himself up with more lube and Billy's body is a little more ready for his girth. Still, it's a stretch. Steve pushes into him slow and steady. When the tip slips past Billy's entrance again, it feels _good_. Steve doesn't stop, just eases his way through Billy's tight walls until he's buried inside to the hilt.

Billy’s chest is heaving. He feels full. So goddamn full. Steve stays still in him, letting Billy adjust, and Billy's grateful. Because it feels good but it's a lot. Steve's cock is so much bigger than his fingers. Steve drops his hips then gets his hands under Billy's knees. Billy makes a surprised noise when Steve spreads his legs and pushes them down, toward Billy's chest. When Steve pulls out, slow and careful, Billy's hands scramble to catch him by the backs of his thighs. He'd thought Steve was trying to stop but Steve only gets halfway out before he's snapping his hips forward again.

Billy's jaw drops open in a silent cry. Steve's cock hit _something_ in him that lights up fireworks in his guts. Steve grinds his cock into Billy's insides and Billy lets out a strangled moan that time. His cock is hard, flushed red, and leaking precum. Billy's bent at an angle that makes his cock rub against his abs and bellybutton. It's not enough friction. But when Steve keeps thrusting his massive cock into whatever _that_ is inside Billy that makes him see stars Billy thinks maybe it doesn't matter. He feels like he's going to blow his load without touching his dick at all.

"Ah, fuck yes," Billy rambles as Steve quickens his thrusts, going a little harder, a little faster. When he rocks up just a bit, Billy cries out, "There, there, there! Harder, Steve. _Please_."

"Holy shit, Billy," Steve pants back, voice wrecked, "You feel so good. You're so fucking hot. Are you close? I want to feel you come, baby."

Billy digs his fingernails into the backs of Steve's thighs as Steve pounds into him. The other boy listens to Billy, thrusting up to hit Billy's sweet spot every time and going harder and faster with each thrust. Billy's sweating. His hair is sticking to his face, a few loose curls are stuck against his lips and down his neck. His mouth is open as he gasps for air. Every time Steve's thighs clap against his ass, all the air is knocked from Billy's lungs.

"Yes," he gasps, "I'm so close, Steve. I'm right fucking there."

Steve drops one of his legs to wrap his hand around Billy’s cock and Billy is done, then and there. Steve barely pumps him once and Billy is throwing his head back, gasping Steve's name desperately. He shoots all over his stomach, semen spurting out over his panting chest and clenching abs, mingling with his sweat. His whole body goes _tight_ with release. Billy feels his ass clench around Steve's cock so hard it hurts. Steve is still pounding into him, chasing his own release, even as Billy spasms and clamps down on his cock. Every forward snap of Steve's hips knocks another splash of come from Billy's cock. As Billy suddenly flops back, spent, he whimpers, whines, and begs Steve to keep going.

"Billy, that was so--" Steve moans, bracing himself on an arm next to Billy's head, still thrusting, "Fuck, you're so damn gorgeous when you come."

Billy wraps his arms around Steve, one encircling his back and one up in his wild hair.

"Please, Steve," he whispers with a voice that's as well fucked as he feels, "Come for me."

Steve rocks into him particularly hard and then does just that. Steve gasps. His cock is shoved in as deep as it will go and Billy can feel when it jerks as Steve comes. Steve rocks his hips in these short little jerky thrusts, working out his release. When Billy clenches up around him, trying to milk his orgasm from him, Steve moans Billy's name, all desperate and shocked. It makes Billy undeniably pleased in a way he can't really explain. So he does it again.

"Yeah, that's it," Billy grabs Steve by his ass and pulls him in a little deeper, clenches his ass again, "Give it to me, baby."

"Billy," Steve chokes out, high pitched and a little strangled, "God, fuck, Billy. Your ass is perfect. Holy shit. I never want to not be inside you."

Billy snorts, moving his hands up to catch Steve by the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss. While their lips meet and their tongues slip against each other slickly, Steve slides out of him. They both moan into each other at the loss. Steve eases Billy's leg down so he's spread out on his back again. Steve's hand strokes up Billy's thigh, massaging the tension from the back of Billy's leg, up high right where it turns into his asscheek. Billy shivers a little at the touch. He's never had an afterglow like this before. He's warm but his skin still prickles where his sweat is drying.

Steve parts their lips to catch his breath.

"Stay here," he whispers.

Billy furrows his brow, "What? Where are you going, asshole?"

Steve pecks his lips quickly, "I'll be right back."

Billy is honestly too exhausted to worry about it. Once Steve is off of him and ambling away, Billy stretches out. His back hurts and there's a definite ache in his ass but Billy doesn't mind. The pain he feels is strangely rewarding, like having sore muscles after playing hard to win a game. Or like when he's pushed himself during a workout. He's out of breath but buzzing on post orgasm endorphins.

When Steve comes back he's carrying some towels. The sweat on his face and chest is gone, like he's washed up. Billy expects a cold, wet towel dropped on his bare belly or something. Instead, Steve kneels down next to him and starts wiping the sweat and jizz off his chest. Billy startles. But the towel is warm and only a little damp. Steve is smiling down at him as he cleans Billy up. Billy shifts up to his elbows as Steve slides the damp fabric lower. He hisses when Steve wipes off his cock. Then Steve's hand moves down. Billy spreads his legs so Steve can clean between them. It makes his ears go hot, makes Billy want to shrink away. He doesn't. He lets Steve clean him up, lets himself savor it.

Once Steve is done, he sets that towel aside and lifts a wet washcloth. Billy scrunches his face up in confusion before he realizes what Steve's doing. He takes the clean washcloth, catches Billy by his chin, and runs the soft, damp fabric over Billy's forehead. Billy flinches. He can't help it. He snatches the wet cloth from Steve's grip.

"I-I got it," Billy fumbles out, trying not to ruin the mood.

"Okay," Steve replies easily and kisses Billy on the side of his head.

Steve stretches when he stands and Billy stares at his ass just because he can. While Steve shimmies back into his pajamas, Billy cleans the sweat off his neck and face. Billy tosses the washcloth onto the damp towel where Steve left it on the floor. Steve picks up their hot cocoa, takes a sip and grimaces. So Billy assumes it's probably not very hot anymore.

"I'm going to warm mine back up," Steve says, "Want me to do yours too?"

Billy shrugs, "Sure, why the hell not?"

Billy hauls himself to his feet. Pulls Steve's clothes back on. His pants are too long on Billy. And his shirt is a little tight. Billy still likes the feel of them anyway.

Steve hands him a hot mug of cocoa, with fresh marshmallows, before plopping down onto the couch. He smiles up at Billy and lifts an arm.

"Come here, babe," Steve asks more than demands, "Let's cuddle."

Billy hesitates. But he's feeling sort of off. He _wants_ to cuddle.

Billy drops down against Steve's spread arm and settles into the other boy's side. Pulls his legs up onto the cushions. Steve wraps his arm around Billy's shoulders. It isn't lost on Billy that he's being the "girl" in this position. For the second time tonight. It makes something like shame burn up his throat, makes that voice in his head that sounds like _Neil_ extra loud. 

Billy closes his eyes and rests his head back against Steve's bicep. He just wants to enjoy this. He just wants to have this while he can. He's _tired_ of hating himself over wanting this. He can't help it. He can't change it. Can't change himself. He's fucking _tried_ , okay? Billy lets out a shaky breath.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, "That was...that was good, right?"

"Yeah," Billy doesn't open his eyes, doesn't move. His voice is uneven, "It was so good, Steve."

Steve nudges Billy’s ear with his nose, presses his lips to Billy’s temple so Billy can feel when he smiles, “Just think. Now that we know what we’re doing, next time will be even better.”

Next time. Billy smiles. Takes a long drink of hot chocolate. It’s delicious and sweet. Billy’s warm against Steve’s side. The fire is dying but as it does it casts a relaxing, amber glow against Billy’s eyelids. Sade is singing about how it’s never as good as the first time. And Billy thinks she doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about. Because he’s going to _rock_ Steve’s fucking _world_ when they do this again. And they’re going to do it again.

Billy opens his eyes, turns to look at Steve, “Oh, pretty boy, you have no idea.”

And he closes the distance between them, kissing away Steve’s delighted hum of laughter.


	7. Chapter 7

When Billy wakes up, he's alone in the bed. He's sprawled out on his stomach and at first he reaches out for Steve, thinking he's ended up on the far side of the massive mattress. All Billy finds are cold sheets. He groans in displeasure. He's not a morning person. He doesn't want to get up and find Steve. So he lays in the empty bed a little longer. He doesn't look at the clock but he can tell it's still early by the cool, blue light coming in through the windows. The sun hasn't fully risen yet. How Steve can stand to be awake at such an ungodly hour, Billy will never know.

Billy tosses and turns for what feels like forever but can't be more than twenty minutes before he gets frustrated and gives up. He can't fall back asleep. So Billy drags himself out of bed. He lets out a long groan when he gets back to his feet. His lower back is sore and his ass hurts but it isn't unbearable. In fact, Billy kind of likes it. The dull ache is a reminder that last night actually happened.

Billy shuffles his way into the suite's kitchen in just his underwear, expecting Steve to be out there but he isn't. Billy gets himself a glass of water before ambling away to the bathroom. Steve isn't there either. Billy brushes his teeth, washes his face, and fixes his mess of curls. Then he decides to get dressed since he's not going back to bed any time soon. Billy picks his tightest jeans, slips on a comfortable band t-shirt, and pulls Steve's sweater over his head again. He likes the way the fabric feels where it brushes against his palms. He readjusts his hair, pulls his necklace out to hang over the sweater.

When Billy makes his way back to the kitchen, he's more awake than he was before. Which is why Billy suspects he spots the note on the counter he didn't see the first time. There's a notepad with the lodge's logo on it and a hotel pen sitting on the counter. Scrawled in Steve's chicken scratch handwriting is a message for him.

_Went to get coffee from the lobby. Couldn't wake you up you look too cute when you're asleep! I'll bring you back something. Xoxo_

Billy smiles. Steve is so _lame_. He makes up his mind, decides to go see what's taking Steve so long. It isn't that Billy misses Steve. Hell, they've barely spent any time apart at all this whole weekend. Billy should be sick to death of Steve by now. But he's not. And he does miss him. Whatever. Billy’s not about to question it _now_. 

He snags his room key off the counter, heads out of the suite, and locks it up behind him. The lodge has continental breakfast somewhere around the lobby so Billy's pretty sure Steve is there. There's a surprising number of people awake at this hour considering how hard they were partying last night. Some people look hungover as hell. Others are peppy and bright. The hotel staff looks bored and overworked as ever. When Billy spots the breakfast nook with a sign announcing free coffee, he makes his way toward it. He knows he's going the right direction when he hears Steve's voice.

"Yeah, for like, _years_ ," Steve is saying.

Billy has no idea who he's talking to, or what the hell he's talking _about_ , but he's just happy to hear the other boy's voice. Jesus, he's acting like a kid with their first crush.

"Wow, for real?" a girl responds, giggling, "Like, how many?"

Billy rounds the corner and halts. Steve is standing next to the pitcher of orange juice. Chatting with a complete _smokeshow_ of a woman. She's blonde, tan, with bright, green eyes and long, lusty eyelashes. Her body is tight but thick in all the right places. She has _freckles_. Her hand is squeezing Steve's bicep. They are standing closer than anyone needs to for polite conversation. Suddenly, Steve's words from the day before replay through Billy's mind. He likes boys _and_ girls.

"At _least_ ten," Steve grins when her eyes widen, "You?"

She smiles back with glossy lips, "Four. But I'm _really_ good."

"Oh yeah?" Steve chuckles, "You'll have to show me sometime."

Billy spins on his heel and leaves.

Goddamn, he's such a fucking idiot. Billy shoulders by some assholes hitting on a couple of uninterested women just because he can. He knocks one to the floor. His friend grabs Billy by his shoulder and yanks him back. He lands a blow to Billy's jaw that has Billy seeing red. Billy's slamming a fist into his nose and knocking him down before he's even thinking about it. Billy breathes, counts to ten, and walks away. He doesn't know if that actually calms him down. But he does know ten seconds is enough time to talk himself out of beating some asshole to death.

When he gets back to the suite, Billy decides immediately he can't be there. He yanks Steve's stupid sweater off, grabs his jean jacket, and leaves. There's a hall that leads to a stairwell and exit in the opposite direction of the lobby so Billy goes that way. He pulls his coat on, fishes his pack of Marlboros out of his pocket. He has a cigarette between his lips and is lighting it up before he even gets outside.

Billy isn't the jealous type, not really. When he first got to Hawkins he dated a chick named Carla. And when he caught her sucking face with Brandon, a guy he knew from basketball, Billy shrugged and walked away. Sure, he dumped her ass but he wasn't mad to see her and Brandon going steady the next day. Only maybe that's because Billy never really _cared_ about Carla. He cares about Steve.

Billy flicks his spent cigarette away and lights up another. It's cold enough his fingers have stopped shaking and have gone numb instead. His cheeks are burning from the frosty air. It isn't snowing. It's shaping up to be a beautiful day, actually. As beautiful as it can be in a winter wasteland, anyway.

Billy knows, has known the whole time, that what him and Steve are doing lives and dies here. They get a weekend to work their desires out of their systems. He isn't under any illusions that when they get back to the real world, to Bumfuck, Indiana, they get to keep this shit up. They'll go back to hating each other. Or they'll act like it. They have to. It's just that...Billy feels dumb for thinking he'd be enough. That Steve would only want _him_ here. Which isn't really _fair_ because Billy didn't ask Steve to be all exclusive or anything. Billy is starting to feel a little sick from smoking so quickly but he lights up another anyway.

Smoking helps calm his nerves. Helps him think. Helps with the nausea roiling in his stomach. Billy is really tired of being angry all the time. He plucks the smoke from his lips and presses the heel of his hand into his eye to fight off a headache. Too much nicotine too fast, he thinks, breathing out a plume of smoke. Billy has to remind himself he _didn't_ catch Steve sucking face with someone else like he did Carla. Steve can flirt with whoever he wants, Billy tries to argue, Steve can _hook up_ with whoever he wants. Billy can too. They don't owe each other loyalty because they aren't _dating_ or anything stupid like that.

Billy doesn't _want_ anybody else though. But that's his problem, not Steve's. Either way, fuck it, Billy can't stand being in the cold a minute longer.

When he gets back into the warm hotel, Billy realizes he is, in fact, shivering. He shakes out his hands as he walks, trying to work some feeling back into them. The knuckles on his left are a little more red than his right. They'll probably bruise later.

When Billy gets back to the suite, part of him is surprised that Steve is there. Billy half expected him to still be with the blonde bombshell from the lobby. Steve perks up when he sees Billy but his face quickly shifts into a frown.

"Were you outside?”

Billy shrugs, “Needed a smoke.” 

He doesn’t offer an explanation about why he didn’t smoke on the porch attached to the suite. Or why he didn’t just smoke in the room like the asshole he is. Steve seems to know better than to ask, anyway. He comes over to Billy’s side and scoops up Billy’s cold hands, rubs some warmth back into them.

“What’s the point of a winter coat if you’re never going to wear it?” Steve chastises playfully.

Billy pulls away. He feels colder inside than anywhere else. The realization that he’s just another floozy in the storied past of King Steve shouldn’t hurt but it does. Because deep down Billy is a sensitive bitch like that. Moving away from Steve, Billy takes his jacket off and throws it over the back of the couch.

“Oookay,” Steve continues, sounding amused and only a little irritated at being rebuffed, “So, guess what? I have a surprise for you.”

That gives Billy pause, “A surprise?”

“Yep,” and Steve pops the ‘p’ all quirky and fun, “So come on, lazybones. Let’s go get some breakfast and then I’ll show you what it is.”

Billy snorts derisively, “Thought you already had breakfast.”

“Okay. _One_ : coffee isn’t breakfast,” Steve explains haughtily, “And two: what crawled up your ass and died today?”

Billy is not going to ruin the last day he has away from Hawkins and Neil, the last day he gets to spend with a pretty boy who _wants_ him. He refuses to let his morning revelation bring him down anymore than it already has.

So Billy sighs, lets some of his tension leave him with an exhale, “Nothing, sorry. I’m just not really a morning person.”

“Oh, right,” Steve at least looks sympathetic, “Well how about you nap in the car after breakfast? I won’t even make you look at the map this time if you want to sleep. It’ll be _so_ worth it, I promise.”

As if Billy is ever going to say _no_ when Steve looks at him like that. 

“Okay, pretty boy,” Billy tries a smile, “Whatever you want.”

Steve drives him to a local diner, _Paula’s_ , to get waffles. He doesn’t shut up about them the entire drive. Apparently, they make the _best_ breakfast in this whole god forsaken town and their waffles are bar none! Billy isn’t a picky eater. He’ll eat whatever’s edible and he’ll try anything once. So he really doesn’t _care_ what they get for breakfast. Steve is excited about waffles though, so Billy just goes along with it. 

The whole diner is completely decked out for the holidays. Blue and silver tinsel are draped over every available surface. Gold stars hang from the ceiling. Banners with dreidels and Stars of David announcing _Happy Hanukkah!_ hang behind the register.

Billy and Steve get a booth and Steve eagerly opens the menu. When Billy does too he’s surprised by the waffle options. There are sweet ones, with fruits and creams, and savory ones, with cheeses and meats, not _together_ though. The holiday specials are what really catch Billy’s eye. Peppermint stick waffles with chocolate. And something called rugelach waffles. Billy doesn’t know what that is but he’s definitely trying it.

He doesn’t even try to pronounce it when he orders them. Steve gets the disgusting mint and chocolate ones. Kissing him will taste like licking up Hershey’s syrup and Colgate later.

His waffles are _amazing._ Steve had been right. Paula knows her shit. Because the cake part is buttery and moist and there’s _cinnamon_ in it. The topping has brown sugar and nuts and raisins and _more_ butter. They’re warm and sweet. They taste like what home is supposed to feel like, Billy is sure. Steve’s making some obscene noises over his own so Billy suspects they’re just as good.

And Billy was right. When they get back on the road and Billy leans over the center console to kiss Steve, he tastes like chocolate covered toothpaste. Billy sticks his tongue in the other boy’s mouth anyway. 

Billy sleeps almost too easily. Steve passes Billy his new, puffy coat to use as a pillow and he plays one of Billy's mixtapes _just_ quietly enough to absolutely knock Billy out. Sure, metal isn't something that most people sleep to. But it's _familiar_. That can make anything a comfort, really. Billy listens to this particular mix a lot. Like when he's working out, when he's drinking, driving, reading, jerking off, getting dressed, lazing around. He knows all the songs by heart. So, yeah, falling asleep to the well worn melodies comes naturally.

He doesn't know how long he's out for before Steve is shaking him awake. Normally when Billy is woken up like that he's thrown from sleep, jolting awake. This time he stirs slowly, rubs sleep from his eye, tries to figure out what's going on.

"Where're we?" he grumbles.

Steve kisses him quickly before Billy can even reciprocate. Billy's a little dazed by it, admittedly.

"Your surprise awaits!" Steve announces.

When Billy looks up he thinks he's still asleep, dreaming, for a second. It looks like they're at a beach. It looks like there's big sand dunes covered in white and long, snowy shore lines, and tumultuous, icy water arching into big, beautiful waves. Billy blinks.

"Okay," Steve starts to ramble, "So I wanted to take you out on a date. But we eat all our meals out and we've done all the stuff _I_ love. But those weren't like _dates_ , you know? We weren't like we are _now,_ you know, _then_. So I wanted to do something special."

"You…" Billy looks over at Steve's open, earnest face, "You wanted to take _me_ on a _date_?"

Steve gets a little flushed, a little embarrassed. He almost looks like he's grimacing. He runs his hands through his wild hair. Messing it up even more.

"Yes," Steve admits with a sheepish curve to his lips, "Isn't it obvious? I'm wooing you. Can't you just be wooed?"

Billy scoffs, "Thought you were too busy wooing that busty blonde over coffee."

Which is fucking _not_ what Billy meant to say.

"Busty blonde…?" Steve looks lost until he has a light bulb moment, "Wait. Do you mean _Chrissy_? You saw us this morning? Why didn't you come say hello like a normal person?"

"Oh, I don't know," Billy hisses, "Maybe I just didn't want to stand there watching you two make _eyes_ at each other--"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Steve lifts his hands like he can physically stop that train of thought, "It is _so_ not like that. Chrissy is a _surfer_ , dude."

Billy has no idea what that has to do with anything at all. "What, you got a thing for surfer babes now?"

"Well. I definitely have a thing for _one_ surfer babe," Steve looks _delighted_ and it only makes Billy more mad, "You."

Billy sputters, "Fuck you! I'm not a _babe_."

"Uh, yes, you totally are," Steve chuckles, "And _listen_. Chrissy and I were not flirting. She's a surfer. A _local_ surfer. She was helping me with your surprise." He points out the passenger window and Billy turns to look.

There's a store next to them. A sports rental shop. It is advertising free air for rented bikes. Roller skates. Snowshoes. And, Billy has to read it twice to be sure, winter surfing. There are surf boards propped up in the window. A sign says "All winter surfing gear's available here! Ask inside!" and Billy kind of...flounders, trying to think of something to say. 

He should apologize. Because he had misread this morning so badly. And he's been an asshole about it. But he's afraid to talk. He feels all choked up. The thought of getting to surf again, of feeling the waves beneath him, letting the water carry him, makes Billy so emotional it's embarrassing. He misses the ocean _so fucking much_. And he knows a lake isn't the same but right now he'd surf a puddle if he could.

"Well?" Steve presses, "Do you want to, babe?"

Billy looks back at Steve with a smile on his face so wide it hurts.

He doesn't even need to _think_ about it, "Hell yes."

Chrissy greets them when they enter, immediately going to Billy and extending her hand. She shakes it with a surprisingly firm grip.

"You must be the California surfer Steve totally wouldn't shut _up_ about," she giggles at Billy, "Chrissy."

Billy smirks, kisses her knuckles, "Billy. Heard you're a bit of a surfer yourself."

"Something like," Chrissy says, "My fiancé and I own this place. I'm the athletic one and he does all the boring business parts. Now come on, boys! Let's get you suited up already."

Billy is used to wearing wetsuits. Except he's only ever done warm water surfing so while the ones Chrissy picks out for them are familiar, they're also different. The suits are thicker and less tight. She insists they wear tight black hoods that come up over their hair and ears. Billy is used to surfing barefoot but they both get boots. And gloves that match. Billy kinda rocks this look. Steve looks _ridiculous._ Chrissy explains some basics and some unique perils with cold water surfing. Billy listens even though he's _thrumming_ with excitement, ready to get _out_ there already. 

"Alright!" Chrissy gets them each a board, Billy's is blue and Steve's is yellow, "I think I can leave the rest to you, right, Mr. Big Shot California Surfer?"

Billy snorts, "Yeah, we'll be fine. I'll make sure pretty boy here doesn't drown."

"Hey!" Steve protests.

"Good! Have fun, boys," Chrissy steers them toward the beach and turns back to another group of customers.

Billy shows Steve how to paddle out and keep his balance on the board in the sandy snow on the beach. Steve looks like newborn baby deer the whole time, all wobbly knees and windmilling arms. So Billy also explains the best ways to fall into the water and secure his ankle to the board properly, just in case. He knows Steve is going to eat it the moment he gets on the water but that's all part of surfing anyway.

They paddle out next to each other. Even though Billy could go faster than Steve he makes sure to not get ahead of him. It feels good being on the water again. It's ice cold against his face and the wind chills his cheeks and Billy _hates_ the cold but he loves the feeling of riding waves even more.

"You ready?" Billy asks the other boy.

Steve lets out an unsteady laugh, "Not even a little bit. Let's do this."

On first glance it's probably easy to assume otherwise but Steve is brave. He's going to fall but he wants to try anyway. Billy loves that about him.

"Hell yeah," Billy gets his hands under himself, pushing himself up, "Try and keep up."

"Yeah, no," Steve mimics him, getting shaky legs under his body, "I'm just going to try and fall off this thing with _grace_."

Billy laughs. 

Once he's on the board, Billy's body takes over. He gets on a wave at the perfect moment. Then he rides it all the way until he can't anymore. It feels like finally taking a breath after being underwater. It feels like coming up for air. It _feels_ like being _alive_. Billy let's the wave take him under and he's smiling even though the water is bitter cold against his face and teeth.

When he quickly resurfaces, Billy pulls himself to his board and climbs back on. He spots Steve sputtering in the cold water about thirty feet away and paddles over to him. Billy sits up on his board, legs spread over the middle, to watch Steve push himself back up onto his. They paddle back out before Steve flops onto his back, panting. They're far enough out that the waves rise and fall without cresting and it means Billy and Steve can just roll over them.

"Hey," Steve grins at him, upside down, "Let's go again."

So they do. They keep going until Steve makes it all the way to the shore without falling. When he cheers for himself he slips off his board and splashes into the cold water. Billy cackles at him. After, Steve gets out, too tired to go any longer. Billy surfs a little more. He can feel Steve's eyes on him so he shows off. The waves aren't that big but they move fast. It keeps Billy on his toes. He loves it. He loves everything about being on his board in the surf, of having Steve's eyes on him. Finds he doesn't even mind the cold like this.

He doesn't stay out much after Steve leaves the water. They've been surfing longer than they should have anyway. Chrissy rented them their gear for two hours but Billy thinks it's been way more than that. He comes out of the water carrying the board under his arm and meets Steve on the beach. Steve has pulled his hood off and his hair is wet, frosty, sticking up all over the place. He pulls Billy's hood off too and the chilly air is shocking. Their lips are a little blue, cheeks red. When they kiss it's with cold lips and hot tongues. They can't linger, aware they could be spotted if they aren't careful, but it's one of the best kisses of Billy's life.

They part their lips but Steve catches Billy's elbow before he can put any real space between them.

"Hey," he's looking into Billy's eyes, "I'm sorry about Chrissy."

Billy gapes, " _You're_ sorry? I'm the one who was an asshole about it."

"Nah, man," Steve shakes his head, "We probably looked like we _were_ flirting. But I'm not...I don't do that. When I like someone, I go all in. No bullshit. I want you and I don't want anybody else."

Billy sucks in a startled breath. He's shivering now in the cold. Steve is too. Steve claps Billy on the shoulder before Billy can say anything.

"Now let's get inside," Steve turns away, "I'm freezing my balls off out here!"

Billy doesn't get a chance to talk about what Steve told him until they're in the car on their way back to Frosty Heights. By then he's just about talked himself out of bringing it up at all. He can't... _date_ Steve Harrington. Billy doesn't get to have that. Not after he fucked up so bad in November. Not while Neil is alive and looming over him, watching his every move. Not when Hawkins is full of backwater hicks liable to turn a hate crime into a murder and get away with it. But, fuck, does Billy _want_.

He finds an unlabeled cassette tape shoved in the cup holder and sticks it in the tape deck. I Want the One I Can't Have by The Smiths plays and Billy nearly ejects it then and there.

"Oh, this is a mix Jonathan made for me," Steve says off handedly, "I haven't listened to it yet."

"Is he trying to fuck you too?" Billy snickers.

Steve just gapes at him, " _What_?"

"Steve," Billy arches a brow, "This song is about being _gay_ , in love with a man you can't have."

"Oh," Steve grips the steering wheel a little tighter, "That's...Nah, I don't think Jon put that on here cause of _that_."

Billy chews his lip for a moment. He wants. He knows he's a _coward_ but Steve is brave. It makes Billy want to be brave too. For what it's worth.

"Hey, about what you said earlier," Billy finally says, "I don't want anybody else either. Just...so you know."

Steve's hand reaches over, slow enough Billy can stop it if he wants, and settles on Billy's denim clad thigh.

"Cool," he says like a complete _dork_.

"Yeah, Steve," Billy mocks, "Our big, gay love affair is, like, _so_ cool."

"Oh my god, shut _up_ ," Steve pinches Billy's knee and Billy yelps, "Do you have to ruin it every time we're having a moment?"

"Yes. It's a compulsion. I can't help myself."

Steve snorts and puts both hands on the wheel again.

This time Billy is the one that reaches for the other boy. He clicks his seatbelt off, leans over the center console. His hand lands on Steve's thigh and immediately Billy is dragging it up. He gets his nose in Steve's still damp hair, drags his lips over Steve's ear. Steve gasps under him.

"Here, pretty boy," Billy whispers, a heated growl, "Let me make it up to you."

"Wha--?" Steve is asking but Billy cups his cock through his pants and Steve lets out a startled cry, "Billy!"

Billy chuckles into Steve's ear, "I had a lot of fun today. And you know...I'm not like one of those uptight Hawkins cows,” he gets Steve's earlobe between his teeth and sucks, “I put out on the first date."

"Oh, holy fucking shit," Steve rambles, spreads his legs. He's already hard under Billy's hand.

Billy nips his ear, "You're not going to crash the car if I suck you off, are you?"

"No," Steve says in a rush, "No, definitely not. I'm good. You can do that. Please do that, Billy. Holy shit."

"Well, since you asked so _nice_."

Billy gets Steve's pants undone and wastes no time sliding his hand inside them. Steve's cock is a hefty weight in his palm. It makes Billy's mouth water just _thinking_ about sucking it. He pulls his hand back so he can wrench Steve's pants open, yank his boxers down, and get his cock out properly. Billy looks down at it and moans. Steve's all hard and flushed already. Billy has barely even _touched_ him yet.

Bending down over Steve's lap, Billy grips Steve's length and guides it to his lips. He tongues at the tip, lapping up the clear precum gathering there. Steve's head tips back into the headrest with a low groan. Encouraged, Billy loosens his jaw and takes the head of Steve's cock between his lips. Billy presses Steve's cock against the roof of his mouth, drags his tongue up the bottom to create some suction. His hand squeezes the base a little tighter as Billy starts pumping it up and down. One of Steve's hands drops the steering wheel to grip at the back of Billy's shirt. Billy feels it drag along his spine, exposing his lower back, as the fabric is tangled in Steve's fingers.

Billy has to brace himself on Steve's thigh so he can get over him just right. Then he's sinking down, taking more and more of Steve's cock into his mouth. It bumps into the back of Billy's throat. When Billy swallows around it, Steve lets out a loud moan, hips squirming. He's cursing up a storm, clutching at Billy's shirt so hard Billy's kind of worried he's going to rip the worn-in fabric. But he's really worked up and it turns Billy on until his own cock is straining against the zipper of his jeans so hard it hurts.

Billy starts bobbing his head up and down. He takes Steve's cock in all the way to his throat, works whatever’s left over with his hand. Billy wants Steve to come. Wants to taste it on his tongue. He sucks and swallows. Jerks Steve off hard, fast. Steve is leaking in his mouth, groaning and moaning obscenities above him. His hips are stuttering, trying to fuck up into Billy's mouth.

"Shit, shit, Billy," Steve curses, "I'm going to come. Fuck, I'm--" he cuts himself off with a choked moan.

Billy feels Steve's cock twitch on his tongue and immediately pulls back. 

"Fuck my throat," Billy croaks.

Then he is taking Steve in his mouth again as Steve sputters above. He lets go of the other boy's hardness so he can get Steve's cock all the way down his throat until his nose is pressed into Steve's skin. Steve's hand scrambles up from Billy's shirt to grab a handful of his hair. He pulls Billy's head up and down a couple times, moaning obscenely. Billy gags but it turns into a strangled groan of pleasure. 

Steve doesn't take long before pressing Billy's face down into his pelvis. Then Steve shouts as he comes down Billy's throat. Billy's returning moan is choked on Steve's cock and come. He tries to swallow, gets most of it down, and licks up whatever he misses. After just a moment with Steve buried in his throat, Steve is pulling Billy up and off his cock. Billy gasps, a trail of spit and come stretches from his lips to the tip of Steve's dick. It's lewd. Billy fucking _loves_ it.

Steve hauls Billy up into a messy, wet kiss. He licks his own come up from the corner of Billy's mouth.

"God, you're amazing," Steve kisses him again but keeps his eyes on the road.

His touch doesn't leave Billy though. His hand moves down Billy's spine then under his shirt and back up again. Billy kisses at Steve's jaw. He's still hard and horny. And he's close. His head is spinning with how bad he needs to come. Billy palms himself through his jeans.

" _Fuck_ yeah," Steve moans, his hand sliding down the back of Billy's jeans to grab a handful of his ass, "Want you to come in your pants for me, Billy."

"F-fuck!" Billy gasps and does just that.

He flops back into the passenger seat and wrangles his cigarettes out of his coat. He's still panting, still a little dizzy high from his orgasm. He lifts his pack in offering and Steve nods. Billy takes two smokes and lights them up. Steve has the decency to crack his window when Billy passes one his way.

"Damn," Billy chuckles and his voice sounds _wrecked_. Ah well, it was worth it, "My jeans are soaked, man. And after I swallowed and everything. Thanks for that."

Steve looks all flushed and dopey from coming so hard. It's a good fucking look on him.

"Sorry," Steve smirks a little, "It's kinda hot though."

"Me coming in my pants like a virgin and being stuck sitting in it is hot?" Billy blows smoke in Steve's face.

Steve only smirks harder, "Yeah."

"You're disgusting," Billy chuckles.

"Whatever," Steve shrugs shamelessly, "You love it."

Billy goes a little quiet. Then, "Yeah. Guess I do."


	8. Chapter 8

It’s evening by the time they get back to the lodge. Billy almost does a double take when they pull up to the main building. The whole hotel is lit up with dazzling Christmas lights. They glow in the night. It’s only _seven_. But it’s already dark as hell out. Instead of being irritated by it though, Billy’s kind of glad. This way the lodge looks surreal, sparkling in gold, red, blue, and green. When they get to the main door, where Steve passes his keys to the valet, Billy’s eyes are drawn to the snow.

In the day it’s so white it’s almost blinding. At night the snow turns an eerie blue. It still seems to glow in the dark but in a way that is nothing but ominous. Now, though, under the warm Christmas lights, the snow is dazzling. It looks _painted_ with spills and splashes of warm golds and reds and cool blues and greens. Billy never knew that Christmas lights could even look that good. His mom used to hang up chili pepper string lights for Christmas. Neil only lets Susan decorate with plain, colorless lights that hurt Billy’s eyes.

“Wow,” Steve says next to him. When Billy looks at the other boy he’s surprised to see Steve isn’t staring up at the lights, he’s looking at _Billy_.

Billy furrows his brows, “What?”

“Not to sound all sappy but,” Steve lets out a self deprecating chuckle, “Your _eyes_ , man. All the Christmas lights are making them, like, _sparkle_.”

Billy flushes _red_ , “Oh, shove it. My eyes don’t fucking sparkle.”

“Um, I’m pretty sure they _do_ ,” Steve tells him, all snotty but with his charming smile on full blast, “And since I can see them and you can’t, you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”

“Whatever,” Billy rolls his _sparkling_ eyes and elbows Steve, “Come on, I’m cold and I need to change my pants.”

Steve grins devilishly as he follows Billy inside.

The lodge is busy with people and the lobby is particularly crowded. Billy casts Steve a questioning glance but the other boy just shrugs. As they pass a group of women, one spots them and grins. She holds out a flyer to Billy and winks. Billy takes it with a shark-like grin. Behind him Steve huffs out a chuckle at his antics. When Billy looks down at the paper everything suddenly makes sense.

“Hey, check this out,” he hands it back over his shoulder to Steve, “Live music tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve says as he takes the flyer, “Could be fun. Want to go?”

“Depends,” Billy gets the key to their suite out, “You got any fancy ass booze left? I’m not watching some shitty local band’s _yodeling_ sober.”

Steve barks out a laugh, “Agreed. And I’m sure I’ve got _something_ to satisfy your needs.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do.”

They shower together and then fight over the hair dryer. Billy gets a garnet button down and some black jeans on, undoes his shirt low enough for his pendant to be completely exposed. Steve puts on a forest green polo shirt tucked into some dark blue jeans. His are significantly less tight than Billy's but they look good on Steve's frame. Billy doesn't comment on Steve's Farrah Faucet hairspray because he steals it after Steve's done and uses it too. Billy puts on a few silver rings and a dangling silver spike in his ear. And Steve throws a tan blouson jacket over top of his polo. Their styles couldn't be more different and Billy kind of loves it. He feels like the John Bender to Steve's Claire Standish.

While Steve finds them some booze, Billy fiddles with the radio. He's determined to find something _decent_ to pregame to.

"Vodka or gin?" Steve calls out from the bedroom.

"Vodka!" he yells back, flicking between two radio stations, "ZZ Top or Van Halen?"

"Van Halen, obviously!" Steve shouts in return.

" _Obviously_ ," Billy snorts under his breath.

Glam metal isn't really Billy's thing but he openly admits Jump is a bitchin' song. Max told him that David Lee Roth wrote it after some chick said she'd jump off a bridge if he didn't date her. If that's true, it makes the chorus dark as all hell and Billy loves that shit.

When Steve comes back with a bottle of vodka they both make their way to the kitchen. Steve sets the bottle down but when he looks up at Billy, he's grimacing.

"We don't have any mixers," he confesses.

"What?" Billy teases, "Can't handle a few shots, pretty boy?"

Steve lets out a massive sigh, " _Yes_ , I can. It doesn't mean I like doing them."

"Nobody _likes_ doing shots," Billy clicks his tongue, "Except for maybe body shots. Want to take them from my bellybutton, Harrington?"

"Yeah," Steve says but he's sighing again, "But I'm not waiting another hour for you to get dressed. So I'll just use a cup, I _guess_."

Billy giggles. Steve's flirting still surprises him.

"Too bad," Billy watches Steve get them two glasses from the cupboard, "We'll save it for next time, then."

Steve fills the tumblers up with two generous fingers of vodka and Billy watches him do it without intervening. It's at _least_ three shots worth of straight liquor. Billy's going to love watching Steve choke it down. He grins when Steve passes him his glass. Billy lifts it like he's toasting and Steve clinks them together.

"Cheers," Steve says.

Billy responds, "Bottoms up," and drinks his whole glass in one go.

Steve takes two big gulps then sputters. Billy's throat is burning enough to make his eyes water but he still laughs at Steve's distress.

" _Jesus_ ," Steve coughs but goes back to finish his drink off.

Billy pours them two more hefty servings. That time, Billy struggles to get his down too. A whole body shiver runs through him and he shakes it out. Steve laughs with breath that smells like pure alcohol before pulling him into a kiss. It tastes boozy enough Billy is almost sure he can get drunk off of Steve's tongue alone. He sucks it into his mouth just to give it a try. Steve moans into his lips hungrily. Billy turns, pressing Steve back into the edge of the counter. Steve's hands grab him by the hips and pull him closer. Billy parts their lips just so he can kiss at the long, pale column of Steve's throat.

"Should we do one more?" Steve asks, all breathless.

Billy hums against Steve's neck, dragging his teeth over the freshly shaven skin under Steve's chin. He hits Steve's Adam's apple and nips at it, licks the sharpness of his teeth away with his tongue.

" _Babe,_ " Steve groans, "Let's do one more. I'm going to lose my buzz."

Billy chuckles against Steve's neck, pecks his throat one more time, and pulls back.

"Yeah, yeah," Billy reaches for the bottle and fills their cups back up. Passes Steve his drink. "To your buzz," he toasts and downs his drink in one go.

Steve snorts but follows right after, drinking it down in one smooth pull. Steve's apparently the type of person who gets better at taking shots the more drunk he is. Who knew?

The live band is already playing by the time they get back out to the hotel lobby so they just follow the noise. It's set up in the lodge's restaurant that they've never been to. The place is packed with people, some dancing in front of the little stage at the far end of the bar, some sitting at tables and on bar stools, and some standing around loitering, tapping their feet. The lighting of the place is low, some brighter shit illuminating the band. Billy follows Steve inside. He goes for the dance floor immediately, because of course Steve does.

The music is some folksy, soft rock shit. But it's just bluesy enough to move to. The female singer sounds just like Stevie Nicks, voice expressive and scratchy. There's a man who is slapping bass like he's trying to get people's hips moving. A drummer and some guitars. They're good, honestly. And they put on a good show too. No wonder the place is so packed.

"Is it bad if I say I kinda dig this music?" Steve turns to Billy as he talks. They're mingled among the group of dancers and Billy can barely hear him over the racket.

"Nah," Billy swings his hips a little, "I like it too."

It's probably because they're drunk. But Billy and Steve just go along with it all and they dance. Steve moves like he has no idea what to do with his arms and Billy bobs his head, shakes his hair, like he's dancing to Metallica. They both laugh at each other but not in a mean or mocking way, just sort of disbelievingly. They're just having fun, uninhibited. Who cares if they get weird looks? Right now, Billy only cares about the looks Steve is giving him. And they're anything but harsh or judgmental.

Even so, they try not to be _obvious_. They don't hold onto each other like others who are dancing around them. They stay a couple feet apart. Try not to make too much eye contact. It's easy to feel alone around so many strangers but they aren't. And both of them know it.

The songs start to blend together. Billy isn't really paying them any mind. His buzz has had time to mature. So now Billy's drunk. By the rosy color to Steve's cheeks and glossy look in his eyes, Steve is too. It's easy to lose time like that. Eventually Steve gestures to an empty space up by the bar and they decide to take a break.

"We should have snuck the bottle down with us," Steve sighs.

Billy arches a brow at him, "Want a drink?"

Steve just gives him a flat look, "You got a fake ID I don't know about?"

Billy tongues at the corner of his mouth where he's smirking.

"Watch and learn, pretty boy."

Then Billy ducks around to the front of the bar. He saunters up right between two talking women and catches their attention immediately. He knows just how to smile, how to compliment, saying he likes the woman's earrings as an excuse to touch her hair _just_ right, to get what he wants. The women are motherly types, probably lonely, the ones that always swoon under Billy's attentions. He gets them to buy him two drinks and saunters back over to Steve's side with them like they're trophies.

"Jesus," Steve takes his rum and coke with an impressed look, "I want to say you're gross but I know I would've fallen for your charms too."

Billy grins into his drink, "I know. You're _easy_."

"No," Steve takes a hefty gulp, "I'm easy for _you_. There's a difference."

"Uh huh," Billy chuckles, "You're--"

"Look at this. A couple of fucking queers," a voice cuts Billy off, "It's disgusting. Them parading it around in our faces."

Fury _explodes_ in his veins but Billy forces himself to keep up a cool front. Next to him, Steve tenses. When Billy turns, he spots a nose he recognizes, one that's purple and covered with a bandage. Like it was freshly broken. Billy's bruised knuckles know it, indeed, was.

"I _know_ you're not talking to my friend and I," Billy's voice is cold, he takes a drink, gets an ice cube in his mouth, and crunches it, "Because it's just plain _rude_ , saying shit like that."

The man puffs up his chest, "Just calling it like I see it."

"Sounds more like wishful thinking to me," Steve snorts.

The man's glare hardens, "I should do everyone here a favor and beat your--"

"You know what the funny thing about a nose is?" Billy finishes off his drink, sets it down on the bar with a thunk, "You can break it in so many different ways."

And Billy punches the man square in his nose again. An uppercut this time. There's an oh so satisfying crack as the guy goes stumbling back. The only reason he doesn't fall is because his friend catches him. Someone shouts. Steve curses. He grabs Billy's arm and _bolts._ Billy glances back just in time to see the assholes getting hassled by some bouncers. Steve drags Billy away before they can get caught too and Billy throws his head back to laugh. God, he loves punching dickheads who have it coming.

Billy is surprised enough when Steve drags him outside, around the corner toward the empty ski lifts, that he lets Steve manhandle him up against the wall. They're alone out here, inside the open air building at the ski lift base and in the dark. The music from inside the restaurant is muffled and distant. Billy's breath comes out in big clouds of white. If he wasn't as drunk as he is he'd probably feel colder than he does. Then again, Steve is pressed up against him, keeping him warm.

"God, that was so hot," Steve says right into Billy's mouth. A surprised grunt tumbles past Billy lips when Steve yanks his belt open, "You should beat up bigots more often, babe."

"I will if it gets you this worked up," Billy purrs as Steve wastes no time pulling his jeans open.

"You knocked him on his ass with one hit," Steve is breathing heavy, reaching into Billy's boxers, "Christ, I heard his nose break. Asshole had it coming too, fuck," Steve wraps his fingers around Billy's dick and Billy gasps. They're cold, "Can I get you in my mouth, baby?"

"Hell yes," Billy groans, "Just don't ralph on my boots."

Steve sinks to his knees, grins up at Billy in the dark. "No promises," he jokes, hopefully, then pulls Billy's cock out of his pants.

Billy hisses when his hardening length is exposed to the frosty air. Steve doesn't waste any time getting his mouth on him though. The stark change from frigid air to wet, wet, _wet_ heat makes Billy's knees a little weak. He grips Steve's shoulder as Steve sucks sloppily at the head of his dick. It's clear Steve's never done this. But he's got that drunken confidence thing going for him. Steve jerks off the base of Billy's cock as he bobs his head. Billy bumps into his teeth a couple times, nudges at the back of Steve's throat making him gag a little, but they both take it in stride. 

The sight of Steve down on his knees, pretty lips stretched around a cock, is enough to get Billy _right there_ already. His stomach flexes as he tries to keep from thrusting into the slick suction of Steve's mouth. Billy can't look away. Steve is staring up at him as he works his cock over good. His eyes are syrupy as molasses, taking Billy's reactions in with a lazy kind of hunger to them. Steady but wanting. Billy cups Steve's cheek, swipes a thumb over Steve's cheekbone. He's still getting used to this tender shit.

"God, baby, you look so pretty for me," Billy pants, "Your mouth feels so good. Gonna make me come, Steve."

Steve hums around him, sending a vibration of pleasure all the way up Billy's spine. Billy moans, a throaty thing he tries to swallow down. Steve doesn't pull away. He pumps Billy a little faster, sucks a little harder, bobs his head a little quicker. Billy is helpless against the perfection of Steve's mouth.

"I'm close," he warns, "Steve, baby, I'm going to come."

Steve's coffee eyes gleam up at him like they're issuing a challenge. He twists his hand, chokes over Billy's cock. And Billy can't hold back anymore. He comes with a strangled moan, hands gripping at Steve's shoulders. Steve _swallows_. Billy doesn't... _he_ swallows. Because he loves it, loves tasting his partner's pleasure on his tongue. For some reason Billy is caught off guard by Steve doing it. A shaky keen tumbles from his mouth, almost inquisitive. Steve pulls back, gasping even as he licks the remnants of come from the tip of Billy's dick. The cold air shocks Billy enough to make him hiss in discomfort.

"Fuck," Billy curses, "Jesus."

"Steve, actually," Steve jokes with a rawness to his voice that makes Billy's cock twitch valiantly in the frosty air.

"You…" Billy pants as Steve tucks his cock away for him, finally back into the warmth of his boxers, "You didn't have to swallow."

"I know that," Steve doesn't get up, instead he's shoving a hand into his own pants, "I wanted to," he gasps as he starts touching himself, "You taste so good, Billy. Like fucking _honey_. How do you _do_ that?" he rambles as he jerks himself off and Billy's a little dazed, watching him, "God, I've wanted your cock in my mouth for _months_."

That nearly does Billy in. He's been under the impression Steve's interest in Billy is some newfound thing. The thought of Steve secretly sneaking peeks at him in the locker room during practice too sort of knocks the air from his lungs. Billy grabs two handfuls of Steve's jacket and hauls the other boy to his feet. Steve squawks in surprise as Billy turns them, pushing him into the wall. He kisses the taste of himself from Steve's mouth. He doesn't taste like fucking _honey_ , Steve's just crazy. Then Billy drops to his knees.

"Let me," he _pleads_ , reaching for Steve's pants, "Let me make you feel good, Steve."

"Holy _shit_ ," Steve scrambles to get his pants down, shoving them down his thighs, "Yeah, come on, Billy."

So Billy sucks Steve's cock like it's a competition he has no interest in losing. Steve's knees immediately go wobbly. Billy catches him by the hips and holds him up against the wall. Steve's hands scramble for purchase in Billy's hair but he doesn't pull or move Billy's head around, it's just like he's hanging on for dear life. Billy looks up at him, watching as Steve throws his head back. He must be real fucking close. Billy deepthroats him, bobbing his head and moaning like a goddamn whore. Which, for Steve, he kind of is. It doesn't take long at all for Steve to go all shuddery and tense. He cries out right before he comes in Billy's mouth. Billy swallows. He doesn't think Steve tastes like something as lame as _honey_ but it's still good. Heady and undeniably masculine, _addictive_.

The hands in his hair pull Billy up, to his feet and into a sloppy kiss. While they make out, Billy helps Steve back into his pants, all too aware how uncomfortable the cold air is on wet junk. Steve moans into his mouth as Billy buckles his belt back up.

Billy's shivering. He can feel that Steve is too from where they're pressed up against each other. Which makes sense since Billy isn't wearing a coat or even a sweater. He tucks his cold nose against the warmth of Steve's throat and Steve groans in discomfort.

"Let's get back inside," Steve says, still a little breathless, "We're going to get hypothermia out here."

"You _nag_ ," Billy teases, "You hang out with those dorky kids too much, you know? Act like such a _mom_."

"I'm also _right_ ," Steve snorts, haughty, and grabs Billy by the front of his shirt. He drags Billy through the snow and back to the lodge. Billy doesn't put up any fight at all.

It's late so they ignore the bar and music and head straight for their room instead. Billy's sobering up a little but it's just making him tired, giving him a bit of a headache. He kicks off his shoes, strips on his way to the bedroom with no regard for where his clothes end up.

"I'm cold," he tells Steve, looking back over his shoulder at the other boy as he ditches his boxers, "Well? Are you going to come warm me up or not?"

Billy goes into the bedroom without waiting for Steve's reply. He can hear the other boy stripping and cursing from the other room. He chuckles as he climbs into the bed. He gets under the blankets but only pulls them up high enough to cover his legs. He gets on his stomach, folds his arms under his head, turns and rests his ear against them so he can watch the doorway as Steve comes barreling into the room. He's such a dork. So fucking cute. Billy doesn't know how he got so damn lucky.

"Wow," Steve says, mouth agape, "You're _beautiful_."

Billy snorts, "Shut up, man."

Steve comes to the side of the bed, runs his fingers feather light down Billy's spine.

"I mean it," Steve _sounds_ sincere as hell, "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"And you're _drunk_ ," Billy laughs but it sounds a little forced.

"Drunk words are sober thoughts, Billy," Steve teases and then climbs over Billy with no grace at all. He knees Billy in the ribs and knocks a grunt from him. Billy elbows him over until Steve ends up on his back next to him.

"Tell me when you're sober then," Billy doesn't wait for Steve to settle, just presses all up against him.

"I will," Steve turns so they're facing each other and wraps his arms around him. Smooches Billy on the top of his head, "I'll tell you so much you'll _have_ to believe me."

Billy doesn't let himself get his hopes up. He tucks his head under Steve's chin. Still, he smiles at the thought of it.

"Alright," he concedes then pulls the blankets up over their shoulders, "Now sleep it off, pretty boy."

Steve mumbles something that gets lost in his deepening breaths. He falls asleep before Billy but it doesn't take Billy long either. Billy feels warm and safe and content. He doesn't, often. Surprisingly, sleep comes easy when Billy's in Steve's arms. Easier than it ever has before. Steve snoring is his ear, as it turns out, is one hell of a lullaby.


	9. Chapter 9

For once, Billy wakes up before Steve. Light is streaming in through the window but Billy can't tell what time it is at all. It doesn't _feel_ late. He's laying on his back and Steve is wrapped around him like a damn octopus, head on Billy's shoulder. They have to check out some time today. Drive back to Hawkins. Leave this romantic fantasy behind. Billy feels his stomach swoop. It hurts. Billy doesn't let himself feel good shit like this because the hurt of losing it is worse than the pain of never having it at all. His arms tighten around Steve. Billy blinks wet heat from his eyes, feels it spill through his eyelashes and down his cheeks.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks, startling Billy enough to make him jump.

"Jesus!" he gasps, "I thought you were asleep."

"I'm a really light sleeper," Steve says in an offhand way, his eyes are stuck on Billy's face. His hand comes up, wipes a tear away. Billy holds back a flinch, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Billy says immediately, trying to pull away.

Steve doesn't let him, "Hey, talk to me, Billy."

Yeah, that's never been Billy's thing. He doesn't think he even knows _how_. Billy goes a little more tense. Steve's expressive, chestnut eyes get sad. Billy feels it like he's disappointed the other boy but thinks he's getting to know Steve better than that. It's a Billy thing, not a Steve thing. He's a coward. Jesus Christ, is he a coward. But Billy doesn't _want_ to be. Steve is the brave one and Billy, well, Billy's just _reckless_. But recklessness can be kind of like bravery sometimes, he tells himself.

"I don't want to leave," Billy whispers like he's in a damn confessional admitting to some carnal fucking sin, "I don't want this to end."

Steve lets out a thoughtful sound. Waits a moment to respond, like he's thinking about what to say. Seconds feel eternal.

"Just because we're leaving doesn't…" Steve pulls back, pushes himself up to an elbow so he's looking down into Billy's eyes, "Just because the weekend's over doesn't mean _we_ are."

"It doesn't?" Billy swallows thickly, voice wet, "It _doesn't_? How can it not, Steve?" he gestures between them quickly, "How can _this_ exist in Hawkins?"

A fiery determination crosses Steve's face. "We make it work," Steve sounds so fucking _sure_ , "Billy. I told you I'm all in. No bullshit. I'm not giving up on us."

Billy sounds resigned to his own ears, "It's not that _easy_. We can't be together like you're used to. Not like we are here either. We can't go on dates. Hold hands, even. But you can still find some girl, have a real relationship with her. I'm not...it can't be worth it."

"You _are_ ," Steve catches Billy's by his jaw, "You are worth it, Billy."

Billy has to close his eyes against Steve's gaze. It sends the tears he's been trying to hold back down his cheeks.

"I'm _not_ , Steve."

Steve kisses him then and Billy melts under it. Shit, he'd fight God and the armies of heaven to keep kissing Steve like this. But God isn't real. And Billy is scared of what _is_ real. The world is dangerous for people like them. Billy's selfishness will only get Steve hurt or worse.

"You don't want this," Billy whispers against Steve's mouth, "You don't know what you're asking for."

"Hey, asshole," Steve snaps, "I'm not _actually_ an idiot, you know. You don't get to tell me what I want or, like, decide what I know, okay? I'm _not_ afraid of a bunch of hicks, man."

Billy never thought Steve was. _Steve_ isn't the coward here. Billy wants to argue. Wants to yell at Steve. Wants to cry about how _Billy_ doesn't get that luxury because Neil caught him kissing a boy once and put Billy in the hospital for it. And Billy has to live with him. But what Billy _really_ wants is _Steve_. He wants him so bad, like he never has anything else in his entire life. He sobs and immediately rolls into Steve to shove his face into Steve's shoulder.

"Steve," he speaks against Steve's collarbone, "Steve, I want you so bad. Tell me to try. Tell me to fucking do this and I _will_."

Steve wraps an arm around his back, "Do you want to? Do you _want_ to be with me?"

"Yes," Billy says, so quiet he's not sure Steve can even hear him, "More than anything, _yes_."

"Then let's freaking do this, babe," Steve says, bold as hell like he's not scared of anything, "I'm right here with you. And I'm not going anywhere. I got you, Billy."

Billy, well, he _believes_ him. How stupid is that? He's so gone for Steve, Billy's dumb with it. It feels better than being angry all the time, anyway.

He kisses Steve's shoulder. Billy feels lighter. He's the type to make a decision then go all in with it. And it feels like a weight off his shoulders. Steve smells good, feels good. Billy can't get enough of him.

"Want you to fuck me," Billy says right up against Steve's skin, "Want to make a mess out of this nice bed. Want to feel you for _days_ after."

Steve rolls them, pinning Billy under him. He lets out a desperate noise while Billy moans into his skin. Billy sucks at Steve's collarbone, leaving a dark purple mark behind. Then Steve leans down, pulls Billy around, to get their lips together for a kiss that's more teeth than tongue. Billy gets a good grip on Steve's hips and manhandles Steve over, spinning them around and switching positions. Billy throws his leg over Steve's waist. When he pulls back, Billy is sitting over Steve's lap. He can feel Steve's cock pressing against his asscheek and smirks down at the other boy.

Steve is a vision under him, lips kissed red, face flushed, and hair a raving mess across the pillow. He's looking up at Billy with this sweet, totally fucking lewd expression. All awe and appetite. Like he can't believe he's got Billy fucking Hargrove in his lap and like he can't fucking wait to ravage him. It makes Billy so goddamn hot.

"Please tell me you didn't leave the condoms and shit in the other room," Billy says, voice hoarse.

"No, nope. It's--" Steve twists, rifles through the end table, "Right here."

"Thank fuck," Billy snatches up the lube, pops it open with his teeth, "I need you _in_ me."

Steve smirks up at him, "Can't get enough of me, huh?"

"No," Billy pours lube all over his fingers, spills it on Steve's chest, "You got a problem with that?"

"Fuuuuck no," Steve's chest is rising all falling more quickly. The red on his cheeks has spread down his throat.

Billy licks his bottom lip, reaches down to smear the slick wetness across Steve's skin. Billy watches as he glides a fingertip over one of Steve's nipples and Steve shudders. Jesus Christ. Billy scoops up whatever slickness he can and quickly reaches behind himself. Steve's hands grip at his thighs. When Billy glances at Steve's face he sees that Steve is watching him intensely. His smirk widens. Then Billy pushes a finger into himself.

He gasps. It's so _tight_. He doesn't know what he was expecting. But his body clamps down around his finger like a vice. So Billy pushes in even harder. It knocks a breathy sound from his throat. Steve's fingernails dig into his thighs as Steve's hands _squeeze_. Under Billy, Steve gulps audibly, takes a shaky breath. Billy's free hand braces himself on Steve’s pec as Billy works another finger inside. His head bows, eyes squeezing shut. Jesus that's good. He slides his fingers in as deep as he can, shifts them around, just stroking, just feeling himself, and _fuck_. The dual sensations of his insides being stretched out and feeling them when they do has Billy's cock hard and leaking against his belly. He arches his back, pushing into his own touch, and Steve lets out an obscene sound under him.

"Billy," Steve says his name like it's a plea. One of his hands moves up, cups Billy's asscheek, grips it hard, "Billy, I want to feel."

Billy nods, not even sure what Steve means but knowing that whatever it is he wants it too. Steve's fingers curl into Billy's asscrack. Then he's sliding his middle one in alongside Billy's fingers. Billy cries out. Steve moans. The stretch is good but it's the feeling of Steve inside him along with his own fingers that really has Billy trembling.

"Oh shit," Billy curses, high pitched and breathless, hips rocking into their combined touch.

"You feel so good," Steve slips his finger in deeper, harder, "You're so tight. Know you're going to feel _perfect_ on my cock, baby."

"That's enough," Billy growls, pulling his own fingers out before shoving Steve's hand away, "I want your dick _now_ , Steve."

Steve licks his lips, nods hurriedly, "Yeah. Yeah, baby. Let me just--" and Steve gets a condom out of the box clumsily, tears it open. Billy snatches it out of his hand, reaches back, and rolls it down Steve's thickness smoothly. Then he pours more lube on his hand, splashing down to mingle with the slick already on Steve's torso, and reaches back again to spread it all over Steve's length.

Billy pushes himself to his knees so he can shift back and get over Steve's cock. He lines him up until the tip is pressing against his slippery opening. The rim gives a little when Billy pushes Steve's head inside. Then Billy is sinking down. He goes faster than Steve probably would. But Billy likes it. The stretch almost hurts but it's not quite pain. The fullness, the parting of his inner walls spreading open so much wider than they're used to, doesn't _hurt_. But there's pressure, persistent and unyielding. When Billy's ass hits Steve's thighs, he feels speared open and filled to the brim. It's hard to catch his breath, Steve is in him so deep. He strokes a hand over his own stomach like he can feel where Steve's in him from the outside. He can't but he still shivers under his own palm.

"You're so big," he pants, "It's like I can feel you in my _throat_."

Steve lets out a desperate noise, grabs Billy's ass with both hands, but still asks, "You okay? 'S not too much?"

Billy squeezes up around Steve's cock, lifts his hips just a little, a tease of a thrust. Steve gasps under him.

"Better than _okay_ ," Billy growls, "You're cock is a goddamn gift, Steve."

Steve is panting but he still smirks, "Well, Merry fucking Christmas to you then."

Jesus Christ, Steve is such a _loser_.

"Don't make me gag you, pretty boy," Billy warns.

Steve's smirk widens into a grin, "Kinky. I like it."

"Of course you do," Billy snorts, "You're a real freak, you know that?"

"Hey, you brought it up," Steve points out.

"And I'll regret it for the rest of my life," Billy huffs, shifts his hips around. His body is relaxed, adjusted to the fullness. Billy wants to fucking _move_ , "Now if you'll stop talking, I'm going to rock your fucking world."

Steve snaps his mouth shut, mimics zipping his lips, locking it, and throwing away the key. Billy would be annoyed if he didn't somehow find Steve so goddamn charming. He really is hopelessly gone on him, isn't he?

Billy starts slowly at first. He wants to figure out the best ways to move, the ones that draw the loudest moans from Steve's throat and make Billy see fucking stars. He grinds his hips like some girls have done for him before, with Steve's cock buried deep in his ass. Billy lets out a shuddery breath, Steve moans. It feels good. But it could feel better. Billy pushes himself up with his legs, drops back down. That time he cries out in delight. Oh yeah. That feels fucking amazing.

Billy finds a nice rhythm. He lifts himself up, lets himself fall back onto Steve's cock, grinds his hips down when he does. Over and over. His ass claps against Steve's thighs and his cock slaps up into his stomach as he rocks up and down. Billy throws his head back, moaning. Steve is letting out a string of curses and gasps and pleas, hands clawing red lines into Billy's thighs where they're gripping onto him. The little shocks of pain ignite Billy's blood until it's singing through his veins.

"You're beautiful," Steve _growls_ at him, "I meant it. I _mean_ it," his hands on Billy's legs help lift him up, help slam him back down, "You're so fucking beautiful, Billy."

"Oh god," Billy gasps as Steve thrusts his hips up to meet Billy's when they fall, "Steve, don't- _Jesus_ -don't stop."

He doesn't know if he means fucking up into him or talking. Steve doesn't stop either.

"You're body is amazing," Steve grips Billy's hips suddenly, completely taking over and guiding Billy's movements, "You're eyes are so pretty and, fuck, your _smile_ ," Steve's fucking Billy up and down on his cock _hard_ but his words are so tender. It makes Billy’s head spin. Steve gasps and his voice is raw, hoarse, "You're so good, Billy. All of you. Just fucking _beautiful_."

Billy grabs Steve's wrists, tight, and pulls his hands away. He drops into Steve's lap, stopping his hips, and leans down. Pressing Steve's arms down into the sheets on either side of Steve's head, Billy bends forward to kiss him. They're both panting for air. As their mouths come together, they pull apart. Quick kisses in between heaping breaths of air. Billy can taste the salt of sweat on Steve's mouth, doesn't care if it's Steve's or his own. Doesn't care if maybe it's the lingering taste of his own earlier tears. Billy licks past Steve's lips and Steve's tongue greets him, slick and sweltering.

When Billy parts their mouths, he plants a quick kiss to Steve's cheek, chomps him on the jaw a little. Then he's leaning back. Only when Billy sits up again, Steve chases him. He wraps his arms loosely around Billy’s back, holding him into his lap, and follows Billy's mouth. When they kiss like this Billy has to come down from above, his hands land on the tops of Steve's shoulders. He's pretty much sitting in Steve's lap, chest to chest, so his movements are restricted to short rolls of his hips, barely moving up and down. But it's good. Steve's tongue pushes into his mouth, his hands grip at the flesh of Billy's muscular back. Billy's cock drags across the soft flesh of Steve's stomach.

They move slower like this, slower but deeper. Steve rocks his hips up in these tiny thrusts that manage to drive his cock in deep every time Billy's ass comes down on his thighs. Every other short roll of Billy's hips has Steve hitting the place inside that absolutely _sends_ Billy. His stomach clenches every time, his cock jerks where it's gliding against the spilled lube on Steve's abdomen. This may be the slowest Billy's ever fucked. And he's sure he's about to come hard enough to see stars.

Billy has to pull his mouth away from Steve's lips to breathe. He lowers his head to Steve's shoulder, moaning helplessly into the other boy's neck. Steve is breathing hard, hands switching between stroking Billy's back and gripping the flesh of it. Billy wraps his arms behind Steve's neck. He's so close. Steve feels so good inside him. When Steve drags his dull nails down Billy's shoulder blades, Billy lets out a truly embarrassing whine, cock _throbbing_.

"Steve," his voice is high, tight, "I'm right there. Don't fucking stop."

"Me too," Steve moans, "Me too, Billy," and Billy holds Steve a little tighter as Steve says, "Come for me, beautiful, let me feel you."

Billy is helpless but to obey.

He gasps, grips a handful of hair on the back of Steve's head, and comes. When Billy tightens up, he feels Steve come too. Billy keeps rolling his hips as his cock twitches against Steve's stomach, spilling ribbons of white over his flushed skin. His ass squeezes up around Steve's length and Billy feels when it twitches inside him, coming. Steve moans, clutching at Billy's back, and jerking his hips up in tiny, erratic thrusts. Billy's vision goes all spinny as his cock keeps spurting over Steve's stomach. His whole body shudders through his orgasm, fingers and toes curling. Billy gasps shakily against Steve's skin. Steve relaxes first and Billy trembles through the aftershocks of his orgasm over him.

When Steve slips his softening cock free from Billy's body, Billy groans at the loss. His hole is still twitching a little. All of his muscles feel sore and shaky. Billy just kind of slumps forward into Steve's chest, still trying to catch his breath. Steve holds him close, rubs the tension out of his muscles, kisses him in his sweaty hair.

Billy has a lot of things he wants to say to Steve. But his brain is all foggy and he's still trying to catch his breath. The bruise on his knee hurts as Billy comes down from his orgasm. It makes Billy smile, though. Because, looking down between their sweaty, filthy bodies, Billy sees another bruise. On the inside of his thigh. A little purple thing in the shape of Steve's mouth. He kisses Steve up under his jaw.

"Thanks," he whispers, voice like gravel, right into Steve's skin. There are a million things he's thanking Steve for but of course Steve doesn't pick up on any of them. Ah well, neither of them are masters of this emotional shit anyway.

"I should be thanking _you_ ," Steve hums, "Consider my world thoroughly rocked, babe."

Billy slips his tongue out, licks at the sensitive flesh under Steve's ear just a little. "You're welcome," he growls, all cocky.

Steve chuckles, holds Billy even closer, and flops onto his back. He drags Billy down with him until they're both laying together in the mess of blankets on the bed. Billy grimaces a little at the feeling of cum between their stomachs. There's lube all over them both too. And sweat.

"We need to take a shower," Billy murmurs but makes no move to get out of Steve's arms.

"In a minute," Steve argues, "I just want to hold my beautiful boyfriend for a little longer."

Billy feels himself flush, ears all hot with embarrassment.

"Yeah, well," Billy huffs to hide his blush, "I want my boyfriend to not smell like a cum sock."

Steve bursts out laughing, "Okay, okay. A shower. Then maybe some coffee and Advil."

Billy hadn't even realized how hungover he is. Although it isn't as bad as he thinks it could be.

"Sounds good," Billy says, noncommittally, but makes no move to get up.

They end up laying together long enough for Billy to start dozing off before Steve finally lets out a long sigh and ushers them out of bed. Showering together always sounds good in theory but Billy realizes it's kind of inconvenient. He has a hard time keeping his hands to himself with Steve all naked and wet in front of him. Steve, apparently, has a similar problem. They end up making out more than washing up but do, eventually, get clean. Steve decides to go back to the bedroom to get dressed while Billy, in just his towel, has a cigarette.

He cracks the door to the suite's patio and shivers as he lights up. The cold air is almost unbearable against his shower-warmed and damp skin. Billy kind of likes it though. The breeze from outside tastes fresh and smells crisp, like how he imagines the snow falling from the sky would too. He should smoke quickly but instead Billy barely smokes at all. Brings his cigarette to his lips every time he remembers it's there. But otherwise he's distracted by how much he _likes_ watching it snow. The snowflakes are small, fall quickly, and catch on the sun's rays, twinkling in the light. Almost like glitter is being poured from the heavens. Billy doesn't let himself appreciate pretty shit like this often but, maybe, Steve is having an effect on that.

Speaking of, Steve comes up behind him and wraps Billy in his arms. His chest is warm against Billy's back, even through his layer of clothes.

"Jesus, man," he leans over Billy's shoulder and catches the filter of Billy's cigarette, taking a puff for himself, blowing the smoke out through the door, "Aren't you freezing?"

"Yeah," Billy chuckles, "But I'm almost done."

"Okay," Steve concedes, and Billy's pretty sure he had been about to start nagging Billy to at least put on a coat or something but held himself back. Then Steve kisses Billy's bare shoulder, "I'm going to go get some coffee. I'll remember to bring you back some this time if you want. No stopping for surfer babes either, I promise."

Billy grins, "You better not," he teases, "And I want one with a shitload of a sugar in it."

"You like sugar in your coffee?" Steve asks, sounding way more curious than the subject warrants. Billy quirks a brow back at him.

"Sometimes," he shrugs, "Depends on my mood."

Steve grins like a goofy idiot. And kisses Billy, short and sweet.

"Alright. One super sugary coffee coming right up."

Billy snorts and turns away to flick the burned up butt of his cigarette out into the snow. He watches it sink as Steve leaves. Then Billy figures he should probably get dressed too.

The coffee Steve brings him is so sweet it makes Billy’s tongue recoil. It's perfect. He drinks half of it before they're even packed. Then finishes it off while Steve checks them out of the room. Billy tosses the cup and takes in the lodge one more time. There are a lot of people loitering around, still in too many bright colors and still wearing too many leg warmers. But Billy thinks he'll kind of miss it. Not that he'd admit that out loud. Two girls walking by are gushing about the music last night, talking about how amazing the show was and how they can't believe they got to see the band live. They devolve into an argument about whether _Rumors_ or _Mirage_ is the better album and Billy startles.

He approaches Steve, gets him by the elbow, so he can ask him quietly but frantically, "Steve. Did you suck my dick at a _Fleetwood Mac_ show last night?"

Steve sputters, "What? _No_ ," he laughs awkwardly, "No way. That wasn't--we'd've _known_ if that was Fleetwood Mac," his laugh patters out, "Right?"

"Right," Billy agrees. Because that would be crazy, "Right, yeah, definitely."

Billy knows they're both thinking about how that singer _really_ sounded like Stevie Nicks. But they move on because the thought is downright crazy. Billy tosses his bag in the backseat of the BMW and Steve does the same. They agree to get something to eat on the road because it's already nearing noon and they've got hours of driving ahead of them.

Even stopping for lunch and getting lost, twice, the drive back to Hawkins feels way too short. Billy doesn't even sleep. They both fill the space between them with conversation. They talk about how fun the trip was, all the things they did and learned, how good Paula's waffles were, argue about whether they accidentally went to a Fleetwood Mac performance or not. Billy tells Steve about how his mom taught him how to surf. 

He remembers how different she was when he was just a little kid. Neil hadn't started drinking as much then. He had a job that paid well. He was never _nice_ but he wasn't like he is now. Sometimes when Billy thinks he hates Neil, he remembers Neil sitting on the beach, having a beer, the first and only of the night, and watching him and his mom play in the water. Neil would smile at them, even when Billy failed to stay on the board and fell in the water. Now Neil doesn't smile at Billy at all. It hurts more than he can say out loud.

Steve tells Billy about how his mom hired three separate instructors to teach Steve to ski. Elaine would always be there, correcting the instructors and interrupting them. Until finally she gave up and taught Steve herself. Steve is laughing when he tells Billy that his mom was _terrible_ at it. And Steve basically had to teach _himself_. But he's not mad about it. Steve only remembers it fondly. He doesn't talk about anything his parents have done with him recently in the same way Billy doesn't talk about his dad at all. It's how Billy knows that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington can be nice and still be shitty parents.

When they finally pull into Hawkins' city limits, the mood between them isn't as bright or happy as before. Billy cracks his window to smoke. His hand is a little unsteady with his lighter so Steve lights his cigarette for him. Billy's scared. But he's trying not to let that shit turn into anger like it does more often than not. He sucks at his Marlboro a little too fast, revealing his nervousness. Steve reaches for Billy's free hand, on his lap. Billy immediately moves their hands over the center console, turns his palm up so he can link their fingers together. Yeah, Billy is scared but he's _trying_ to be brave about it. That's got to count for something, right?

His fear curdles into something downright sickly when Steve pulls his car down Cherry Lane and Billy immediately spots his dad's truck parked in the driveway. Neil, Susan, and Max are home already. Which means Billy is in trouble. Neil is going to be _pissed_ at him.

But.

But the thing is.

Billy is hit with a realization.

Neil is _always_ going to be mad about something. Because it doesn't matter how Neil used to be, now Neil is a miserable, asshole, piece of shit who's angry at the world at large and determined to take out on Billy's hide. It's not fair. And it's also not _Billy's_ fault. Billy is so sick and goddamn _tired_ of Neil's bullshit. If he's going to be in trouble either way, Billy decides to at least make it worth it.

Steve pulls up to the curb outside Billy's house and parks.

"Hey, babe," Billy says, flicking his butt out the window, "You still got daddy's gold card?"

"Yes?" Steve answers, confused as hell.

"Good," Billy lifts their hands, kisses Steve's knuckles, "Then take me out to dinner. I'm hungry. Maybe a movie too. What's a date without a movie?"

Steve grins looking at Billy like _that_ again. Like Billy's the best thing he's ever seen. Billy is determined to be the kind of person worth that adoration. For Steve, he'll do it too. For Steve, he'll do anything.

Steve pulls his car back onto the road to drive Billy away from Cherry Lane, "Okay. It's a date, then."

Hell yeah it is. Billy turns to hide his smile by looking out the window. The radio is playing _Wham!_ but it's If You Were There and Billy can't bring himself to change it. He's a fucking sap, these days. When Steve squeezes his hand, Billy grips it back.

There's more snow here than when they left. Billy doesn't know why but he finds that he doesn't mind it. Even Hawkins looks kind of pretty under a fresh layer of snow.

Billy still fucking hates winter but.

He thinks maybe with Steve by his side it's not _so_ terrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read, gave kudos, and commented on this story. I sincerely appreciate all the feedback. It really means a lot to me. So, again, thank you all.
> 
> I hope everyone has a very happy holiday season and that we can all stay healthy and safe in the upcoming new year.
> 
> Happy Holidays!♥


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